Eye of the Storm
by pillowrabbit
Summary: It has been exactly two years since Ashley stumbled back home after her disappearance. Whenever her best friend, Sam, would ask her, she would just say that she had been kidnapped. But no matter how much Sam tries, she can't shake off the feeling that there's something more to Ashley's story...until the forest calls her and she has no choice but to live a story of her own. SEQUEL.
1. Prologue

**Before you read any further, know that this is a sequel to my other story, "Don't Be Afraid to Fly". Just clearing up any confusions in case you didn't know.**

PROLOGUE

The moon casted an eerie glow on the surface of the shimmering pool. Next to it, trailing its leaves in the water, the Tree of Promise sat stone-faced and hunched. The beautiful azure glow that had serenaded it was gone, and now the branches were as brittle as twigs. The leaves seemed have lost their glossy appearance, and despite the strong gusts of wind, it lay limp and almost lifeless, like an old woman hunched up in her shawl.

As the leaves dragged on the surface of the water, the Moonpool rippled, as if asking what was wrong. The Tree was silent, outlined by the silver moon.

Two feline shapes slinked out of the shadows and paused to crouch down next to the Pool, staring at their reflections in the calm waters. They were quiet, and glanced at each other, as if daring the other to speak first.

Finally, the ginger tom opened his mouth.

"The Tree is dying," he said, and the she-cat shivered, for she knew it was true.

"How can it be," she whispered. The Moonpool rippled again.

The ginger tom, with eyes as green as Newleaf, stood up and traced the bark with his paw. He lifted his head up and closed his eyes. "The stars have foretold it," he meowed. "A storm will come. A storm greater than any other, with lightning crackling in its belly and its claws as powerful as the winds."

"And this storm?" the other cat mewed. Her blue-grey fur caught the light of the moon so that the stars in her pelt glimmered like fish scales. "When will she come?"

"Soon," Firestar replied. "Very soon."

"And Shadefrost? Don't tell me you've forgotten about her?"

Firestar blinked. "Of course I haven't forgotten. How could I? But this storm…may be even greater than her."

And the Moonpool rippled once again, and it seemed to shiver.

OooOoooOoooooooooooooooooooOOOoOoooOOOOooo

By the light of the half moon, the medicine cats were making their way to share tongues with StarClan. Aspenheart lagged behind her mentor, pausing every so often to stare in fascination at a firefly or a cricket.

Willowshine stared fondly at the stars. "Mothwing loved the stars," she mewed. "She would stare up at them every night, after that battle with the Dark Forest, so long ago."

Kestrelflight blinked at her fondly. "You still think of her." He turned his head back and called, "Aspenheart, hurry up! Pick up the pace!"

The lush grass wavered in the calm, summer night air. The skies were clear.

"Have you had that dream?  
"What dream?"

"That dream where…"

"_That _dream?"

"The storm with lightning in its heart…"

Suddenly, without warning, a figure darted out from the bushes. The cats immediately arched their backs and hissed, unsure of what to make of this sudden intruder.

The shadow shifted, and a thin and wiry vixen stepped into view. A limp rabbit dangled from her jaws.

"Great StarClan, Ember!" ShadowClan's medicine cat, Brokenwing, fluffed up his fur. "You gave me a fright!"

"What are you doing out of the ThunderClan borders?" Aspenheart asked curiously.

Jayfeather rolled his eyes. "I doubt it would matter. Ember's not really a cat, so the warrior code might not apply to her."

The fox's fur began to bristle dangerously. "I am a ThunderClan warrior!" she growled.

"Alright, alright, keep your fur on," the tom grunted.

Ember glared at him and picked up the rabbit she had caught, and then started off down the slope of WindClan territory, toward the direction of ThunderClan.

OooOoOoOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooOOooOOOoOOoOooOOOoOooO

The kits were begging to hear a story.

"Please?" Silverkit whined. "Just one more before we go to bed?"

"Just let me sleep," Frostfire grumbled. "Purdy, you deal with them." The grumpy elder shifted so that her back was toward them.

Purdy chuckled, his whiskers short and bristled and his fur as tangled as ever. "Don't mind her temper, kits. And, in fact, I do have a story to tell to a lot like you."

Scorchkit's green eyes were large and round. "Really?"

"It's about Shadefrost."

Silverkit squealed. "The Guardian of the Lake! Tell us about her! Please, oh please!" Her blue eyes glittered with excitement as she pressed closer to the elder.

Wolfkit, the oldest and most mature one, nodded as well.

His voice was old and cracked. "A long time ago, a black cat suddenly came to ThunderClan. Nobody knew who the young un was, or where she had come from, only that her name was Shadefrost. She trained to be a warrior, and she was powerful too. She could kill an adder with a single swipe of her claw. She could take on a badger three times as big as herself." He puffed out his chest and batted at the air, aiming at a make-believe enemy. "And she was a hero, too. You ever heard of heroes? They've got hearts of gold, yes they do. She saved the Clans. She did. And to this day, her name still rings around all four of the Clans. Legend has it, the day she left, a tree grew next to the Moonpool. The Tree of Promise, to mark her legacy so that she lives forever."

"Come now, Purdy, it wasn't _that _long ago." The kits turned around with a gasp of surprise to see that Dewstep was sitting near the entrance with his tail curled around his paws. "You tell her story as if she lived a lifetime away."

The elder stared at him sleepily out of half-closed eyes. "It certainly seems like a lifetime ago." He chuckled, and yawned. "Who knows if…the young un will ever come back."

Dewstep's amber eyes flashed. "She _will _come back! She promised me!"

"Keep yer fur on, youngster," he said good-naturedly. "I'm sure she will. StarClan knows, maybe I still remember what she looks like with this old brain of mine—"

Silverkit gasped in wonder. "You met the great Shadefrost?"

"Of course I have," Purdy mewed. "But no one knows her better than Dewstep and Ember, and what was that other cat's name? The un with the spots? Spottedblaze, that's right."

The kits immediately scrambled over to Dewstep.

"You were friends with Shadefrost?" Scorchkit asked in awe. "Wow."

Dewstep ducked in embarrassment.

The crunching of approaching pawsteps could be heard, and then Ember leaned into the den with a rabbit hanging from her jaws.

"Ember!" the kits mewled with glee, and she nuzzled them.

"I thought you might need something to eat before you go to sleep," she explained.

Scorchkit pouted. "But we're not even tired!"

Ember raised an eyebrow and pointed to Wolfkit. The pale grey she-kit was already snoring away in the corner.

Silverkit shrugged. "Not _that _tired, at least," she muttered. She yawned, and the fox began herding the kittens back into the nursery. Purdy was already snoring loud enough to wake the dead. His old bones rattled in his sleep.

Silverkit murmured sleepily, "You think that _I _could meet Shadefrost one day?" She said the name carefully and with wonder, as if it was a prized and valuable jewel.

Dewstep replied, "Maybe one day, you will."

He looked up at the night sky studded with white stars, and wondered if Shadefrost could be looking up at them right now. His amber eyes narrowed, and then he lumbered off into the warriors den.

**Note: Silverkit, Scorchkit, and Wolfkit are **_**not **_**Dewstep's kits. He doesn't have any kits right now.**

**Hope you enjoy the rest!**


	2. Chapter 1-Me

CHAPTER 1-Me

I thought I'd never see her again. She was gone for one year; just gone without a trace, as if she had been snatched up and bolted down raw, bones and all. Everyone panicked. The police got involved. It was like watching an egg falling through the air in slow motion, whirling and then cracking on the counter top to spill itself all over, a mess of things. I'd lie awake at night to stare up at the ceiling, wondering where she was or if she was save. I imagined her lost somewhere, a desert maybe or high up in the treetops. I never thought I'd...

It was the night of late summer when everything was too hot and too loud and even the shadows cast over the furniture was too crisp and bright, when the moon was peering in through the glass screen door and I would listen to the cicadas outside. Sprawled out on the sofa like a worm. The T.V. blared.

_1:15, _the clock said, _a.m. _

There weren't any good shows on. Nothing but boring cartoons, lame jokes, and a few reruns. I flicked through the channels, not really caring what I'd find. There were celebrities and gossip and makeup and ads, and nothing was on except this load of crap.

The phone was still ringing as it had been for the past two minutes. Heaving myself to my feet, I reluctantly sauntered over to it and looked. It was a call from Ashley's parents. My sleep-deprived eyes widened in surprise. My hand tightened around the phone, and for just a few minutes, I could ignore the racket of the outside world and focus on the voice chattering on the other line, telling me that the stars had come out tonight.

* * *

When I saw her for the first time in over a year, I looked at everything about her. Black hair, grown longer so it hung down her waste and was tattered like string. Scratches and scars from who-knew-what on her arms and legs. Clothes were borrowed, baggy and three sizes to big for her. She was thinner than I'd remembered. Like she hadn't eaten. Starved.

But then she smiled lightly when she saw me and her eyes lit up and ignoring the cries from the nurses to lie back down, she jumped up and wrapped her arms around me and squeezed me tight, as if trying to suffocate me. And then I relaxed. Those dark brown eyes were the same. They were Ashley's and no one else's.

"Where ya been, girl?" I asked, mussing up her hair even more. "How long has it been? And you didn't even send me a postcard."

"Been busy," she mumbled into my shoulder. "Tired." Kidnappers, her parents say, the police say, everyone says. Bandits who snatched her away, but she managed to escape.

But I don't believe her. There's something she doesn't want me to know. It frustrates me so much when she doesn't tell me.

But I'll find out. One day, I will-

* * *

Nothing really changed much. We'd been friends since we were young. She hadn't changed at all; shy and quiet on the outside, but goofy and idiotic on the inside like a nut bar. When we walked to the local Seven Eleven in the summer afternoon, like how we used to before, I bought her a soda and an ice cream cone.

"Sam!" she said, twirling around to face me. "Look at it! It looks so perfect!"

I raised an eyebrow and chuckled.

"We should take a picture of it," she continued, holding it up as if it were something holy.

I laughed. "Idiot. Get to the shade before it melts."

And the evenings when she would come over where the absolute best. That way, I wouldn't have to listen to my parents slamming doors.

Engelbreit purred and weaved in and out of Ashley's legs as she leaned against the patio, drink in hand and chin tilted to watch the stars. The ice cubes tinkled against the glass.

And even though I knew she was the same person that I had always known, that she was still Ashley and just Ashley, I had a feeling that she was different somehow. Sometimes I caught her staring away into space, probably daydreaming or something, and once or twice she would sit down on the grass beneath the wide stretch of the night and make small talk with the cat.

* * *

And, just like that, the two years passed as easily as running water, but still too fast for me to hold in my hand.

Daily schedule as followed:

Wake up at ten in the morning, bags under eyes and grouchy.

Skip breakfast. Nothing good in the fridge anyway.

Listen to parents fight. Note to self: buy some earplugs.

Spend the rest of the day hugging the T.V. and seeing if new episodes are out yet.

My life was regularly dull and regularly spent living as a couch potato. Except...today, at least, was a little bit different. A change in schedule.

With hands in pockets, I made my way down the cafe, eager and with an extra skip to my step. The sky was dangerously blue today, and the sun hung above as if the world was enclosed in a tight skin of the sky with the one sun in the center of it like a bulb.

I hadn't seen him in a long time. He was standing there, leaning against one of the tables busy with a phone in his hand. He seemed different than what I last saw him. His eyes were covered with shaggy hair. I waved to him as I neared, willing him to look up. Without stepping away from the phone, and as if he had noticed me rounding the corner even before I did, he raised his arm and waved back.

"So where do you wanna go?" I asked brightly. "There's the park, and I've saved up enough cash for the theater, or maybe even the-"

"Parks sounds nice. Let's go." Again, something about his voice bothered me. There was something about his slouching frame, the way his eyes would dart over to have a glimpse of me when he thought I wasn't looking before darting away again, like flies. The way there, he didn't say a word.

I offered him my hand. He only quickened his pace, and I struggled to catch up to him.

The squirrels chattered and fled up the trees. A boy was playing Frisbee with his dog, throwing it and throwing it again while the hound chased after it. Several kids were building a sand castle. It kept crumbling to dust.

We chose a stone bench. I crossed my legs and felt the grainy texture of the granite with my hand, knowing that if I happened to press down harder, it would leave bloody scrapes in my palm.

One of the kids started crying.

I turned toward the tall figure sitting next to me. The sun cast rays across his hair, his posture was bad, yet so was mine.

"So...we haven't seen each other for a long time," I began.

"Mmph," he replied, which could have meant anything.

"You still text me, though."

He didn't answer me this time, and suddenly I knew.

It was a blow across my face as if he had decided to get up and slap me. He wouldn't be the first one. They had all decided to leave me, in the end. All of the past months I had spent with him evaporated in the sun. Numbingly through the fog, I noticed that I was clutching the edge of the stone bench with so much force that the granite was cutting through, and the pain still didn't reach me.

He rubbed his neck and cleared his throat as if he didn't even notice how much I was breaking. "So, um...I was thinking that..."

_Don't say it, _I thought, then told him out loud. I knew. I didn't need to hear the words coming from him.

He nodded again, looking more awkward than anything as if he had just said something stupid. Didn't he understand? I wanted to somehow reach inside his mind and show him just how I felt, if I could just somehow-

"We can still, like, hang out sometime," he said, but there was a catch in his voice as if he was speaking kindly to a little kid who he really didn't want around. It was as if we were strangers. As if the past few months had meant as little as a penny caught in the sidewalk.

I suddenly stiffened and spat," If you hate me, just say it."

He sighed in exasperation. "Look Sam, I know how you feel about me but it's not just cut out for us. It's time to move on, you know?"

The words broke me and tore me inside out. I stood up, my eyes hidden behind my curly russet mop of hair and began to move my legs and walk away as if I was still whole, as if what he told me didn't hurt me at all, and yet each step I took felt like I was walking on knives and knowing, as he knew, that every step took me farther away from ever seeing him again.

I expected him to run after me and call my name, but he didn't. Without turning my head, I knew that he was stretching the distance between us and as I rounded the corner and finally escaped from the springy turf of the park, I began to run.

Run, run, run. Back home.

* * *

The idiots from the neighbor's house were taunting me again. They jeered.

"Sa-man-tha!" they chanted, sounding for all the world like the audience in a _circus_ cheering for the animals to jump higher, jump through the hoop, do something stupid that would make them laugh.

On my usual schedule, I would just stick my tongue out at them and wave my fist. That usually drove them off.

But today was not one of those days. Picking up a pebble, I chucked it at one of them and aimed, aimed to miss. It bounced off a tree trunk, and it made them only laugh harder. They bayed and squawked.

_Like a bunch of mules, _I thought angrily. I planned to stop and scare them off, show them just what a circus lion was made out of when you didn't bring the whip, when the lady from the other house stepped outside and started cleaning her front porch with a broom.

She looked up and smiled. "Mornin', Samantha! Wonderful day, isn't it?"

I grinned back. "Yup. Perfect weather." She was going to ask me something else but I didn't let her, and I looked away from the boys and pretended nothing had happened.

* * *

I stared up at the ceiling and counted the cracks. The silence only made everything sound louder. I was aware of the ticking of my heart.

"Hey," the voice on the line answered.

"Hey," I replied. "You busy today?"

"Umm, not especially." And then, as if she detected the emotion at the back of my throat, she asked suddenly, "Are you feeling alright?"

"Mhmm," I lied. "Wanna come over?"

"Sure." The phone clicked.

* * *

The sun was sinking below the horizon. We sunbathed ourselves in the patio in the last of the rays, clad in nothing but swimming suits. The pool was big enough for a herd.

I couldn't help but eye the scar that started from her shoulder and wound all the way down to her hip like a snake. It was a nasty mark that seemed to cut her skin in half.

"Did the kidnapper do that to you?" I asked.

"Hm?" She was daydreaming again. "Oh, yeah."

Lies.

She began to chatter away at something else, but I wasn't listening. I laid my head down and stared up at the darkening sky.

People lied to me all the time. My parents when they were arguing, when they were slamming doors and cursing at each other until the curses ran steadily down their lips in streams. And then my mother would say, _It's fine, Sam. I'm fine, _only I knew she was not, and ever since the whole thing started I often wondered why the heck she would say a lie like that when, in truth, she was not fine but slowly breaking inside. My father, too. I think that he's hanging on only by a string. On strong yank, that would be all that it would take, and then the string would unravel and all of his broken pieces inside of him would come loose.

And the counselors would blink at me fondly and hold their hands out and say, _It was a pleasure meeting you today. _But if you even had an inkling of who Samantha Piper was, then you'd know that she was a thin girl, narrow-hipped, topped with a boyish mop of tousled hair and green eyes, and anyone who knew Samantha Piper also knew that she was the farthest thing from _being a pleasure, _as far away as a toad from a swan.

Sometimes I wished that I was somebody else, that I could unzip my body and step outside and put on another skin, a better life where my parents didn't fight and I was loved back by the boy I used to love, and I was someone who was actually a _somebody._

"Sam?" Ashley said.

"What?"

She stared at me for a second, and I was suddenly afraid that she could look into my eyes and see what I was thinking. But instead she just said, "It's getting dark. Let's go inside."

* * *

The clock in the kitchen read _10:30. _Ashley was looking like she would clonk out any minute know. Her eyelids were drooping.

Something flitted out of the corner of my eye. Something silvery, just a shadow.

Ashley sat up. Rubbing her eyes, she drawled out, "Mmm...goin' outside fora minute." She tumbled out of the couch as gracefully as a sack of potatoes, flailing her arms as she did so and tripping on the sheets. I stifled a laugh.

She lurched out the sliding door and disappeared into the backyard.

I glanced around the room. The white moonlight shone and gleamed on one tattered old book, the letters almost faded.

Warriors. Jeez, when was the last time I ever sat down to read one? The last time that happened, it was eons ago, probably when the dinosaurs were still roaming the planet. I almost got up to get it and flip through the pages to see what I had missed, but I didn't.

And what was Ashley doing back there, anyway? Had she fallen asleep? I sighed. If she did, then I'd have to drag her back inside.

Pushing Engelbreit off of my lap, I trudged heavily outside and started to open my mouth to give her a piece of my mind for going out at a time like this, but then quickly shut it when I heard her talking.

"What do you mean?" She actually sounded pissed.

A pause.

"But I can always go back! Why do you need Sam?

Me? I craned my neck forward. A red cat was seated in front of her, his green eyes calm. A stray? I'd never seen him before. And the weird thing was, numerous bits of glowing silver were wreathed around his paws. Were those _stars_?

In one swift movement, Ashley noticed me and stood up all too fast. A shaky laugh. "Oh, hi Sam. When did you get here? 'Kay, let's head back."

"No."

My answer surprised her as much as I did. Clenching my fists, I stepped up to her, right up to her face until it looked like I was going to trod right through her.

The cat had vanished.

"You didn't get kidnapped," I said, crossing my arms against my chest to prove my point. All I could hear were the chirping of the crickets.

"I-uh, well," she fidgeted nervously. I backed up to give her more space. She started softly, "Well...did you see anything just then?"

I furrowed my brows. "See what?"

"The cat. The ginger cat, he was right there and then-actually, never mind." I actually thought that she would tell me right then and there, but she clamped her mouth shut and stopped.

Then she suddenly broke into a grin and stretched her arms behind her head, casually announcing, "Sleep," before marching inside. I gave up. It didn't matter anyway.

We snuggled back onto the sofa, and as we did I realized how cold it had been outside. My hands were frozen. As I rubbed them together under the covers and watched as Ashley dozed off to sleep, I decided that it was okay if she did lie to me. She was my friend. A good friend. It didn't matter. If she wanted to keep a secret, then I should let her.

The warm waves of sleep engulfed me and I drifted off in a boat.

* * *

I dreamed about snakes and Engelbreit and detention rooms were old teachers in glasses glared at you, and I dreamed off little trolls singing, "Sa-man-tha" over and over again and of cats and crickets. I dreamed that I was a lion in a circus with the tamer throwing a whip at me, while blinding lights surrounded the audience and I suddenly realized that it was not a circus, but an arena. Just as I was licking my chops and beginning to devour the terrified ringmaster, the lights turned black and I was swathed in the darkness. A tingling sensation came into my limbs.

I saw the cat again. The ginger one with green eyes.

And then he was gone.


	3. Chapter 2-Far From Home

CHAPTER 2-Far From Home

I had a pounding headache that throbbed at my temples, and my arms felt limp and numb. My eyes were practically glued shut, and I struggled with a flicker of panic to pry them open.

Wait a minute…why did my sofa smell so musty? Like…spices?

Moaning, I squinted open my eyes, and was greeted by two large, blue pupils staring at me just centimeters from my face.

"The heck?!" I yelled, leaping to my feet. I stumbled and fell back onto a dizzy heap on the floor…er, ground? Where was I?

Pulling myself up, I gasped, "What—who?!" Was I in a cave of some sort?

Heart thudding wildly, I flicked my gaze from one corner to the next. It was dark in here, and the air was thick and warm and smelled of garlic and herbs—why did everything look so big, like I had shrunk overnight?

I groaned from the headache and pressed my hand up to my forehead, but quickly snapped my eyes open again when I brushed against something soft.

I stared at myself in surprise, then shock, then horror. I had paws; four furry paws! And a tail that I could wave, and when I gingerly reached up, I felt pointed ears sticking from the top of my head. My short fur was a mixture of dark red and black blotches, mottled and patched together into some sort of cluttered soup.

Just as my heart was rising into a frenzy and I was starting to hyperventilate, a soft voice asked, "Um, are you okay?"

I whirled around, my eyes wide and unfocused.

A small cat was crouched in front of me, a cat with light grey tabby fur and big blue eyes.

She jumped and perked her ears up, and it actually looked like she was _smiling._

"Hello!" she chirped happily.

Whoa, whoa, this was going a bit too fast for me. Did that cat just…talk?

I felt light-headed. What was going _on?_

I stumbled on my paws and nearly fell again. Her blue eyes grew concerned. "You look…tired," she meowed. "Should I get Jayfeather?"

J-Jayfeather?! Wasn't he the tom in the Warriors book?

"What's all the commotion in here?" a hard-chipped voice asked, and another cat trudged into the room. His dull blue eyes stared unblinkingly into space, as if he were blind.

Hold on…it couldn't be….

A lithe tan feline trailed after him, and she would look almost beautiful if it weren't for the hind legs that made her imperfect. They looked heavy and limp, and she had to drag herself after the tom.

My worst fears have come true. Wait, fears? I was a cat, I should be happy! This was supposed to be a dream come true!

Another bout of nausea struck a dizzying blow to my muddled brain, and I decided that I needed somewhere quiet to think.

"Ah, so you're awake," Jayfeather mewed. His eyes turned stern. "You shouldn't be walking around if you're injured."

Backing away from him as if he was some sort of demon, I shook my head and muttered, "Y-you're not—not real."

All three cats looked startled. When did I get so good at reading feline emotions? Half of the time at home, I couldn't even tell what Engelbreit wanted…

Briarlight dragged herself a few feet toward me, and I cowered, feeling so impossibly tiny and vulnerable.

"There, there," she cooed gently. "We'll fix you up. Just lie down on the moss and rest for a while."

I was trembling—why was I trembling? Or was I shivering because it was so hot?

I pawed my muzzle and whimpered, not really knowing what was happening. The incoherent thoughts whirled around my brain and shattered into a million pieces on the floor.

"No…stop!" I barged my way past them and hurried out the den, toward the sunlight.

"Wait!" the small grey tabby called after me, but I didn't want to have anything to do with her. With _any _of them.

I burst out of the den and skidded to a halt as my attention reeled with amazement. There were cats _everywhere: _sunning themselves outside of the numerous dens, chatting with the others, play-fighting, or nursing kits. This was like a scene straight out of Warriors!

This had to be some really messed up dream. How high was I before I clonked out yesterday night?

Ignoring their bewildered looks, I sped past them, nearly tripping and landing on my face, and hastened toward the opening in the gorse wall. Tearing free from the tendrils that yanked at my legs and tail, I jerked out of the camp and made a mad dash toward the sanctuary of the forest.

Shadows bloomed and patches of warm, buttery sunlight mottled the grass as I hurried to and fro, not really knowing or caring where I went.

It was quiet here, save for the melodies of the invisible birds. The undergrowth wriggled and teemed with life and tiny beings. A wind blew, ruffling the branches, and soared off into the distance. The air was cool and refreshing. It was peaceful here, and there was nobody around but me.

I slowed to a jog. _Come on, Sam. Think, _I hissed to myself. Okay, okay, think back to what happened last night.

I was curled up on the sofa with the blanket, and Ashley was snoring gently next to me. I had fallen asleep; I must have. And then…and then I saw a cat. Two cats, one a fiery orange and the other a calm blue-grey, and their eyes bored into my soul and they squinted, as if they were calculating me. But I remembered feeling so relaxed. I was drifting in a black void, when out of the blue, a huge rush of white stars hurled out of nowhere and carried me up and up to God knows where…

And then I ended up here? But the warriors were absolutely, positively not real!

A small voice in my head asked, _Then how do you explain this?_

I shook my head. "It's all just a dream," I growled.

But this felt too real to be a mere dream. I saw spots in my vision, and I turned hot and cold and tingly all over.

So, I was a cat now. I lifted up my paw and studied it. I could hardly believe it, but everything was right there in front of me. The spots of sun mottled my tortoiseshell coat and I stretched, feeling the warmth spread to my bones like milk.

Voices were calling to me from the trees. Leaping to my paws, I swerved past the fallen logs, away from the others. My heart beat with a passion, as if to a rhythm of music, and the blood rushed through my ears. My veins ran with the feeling of independence, of pure joy; I was free at last! No schools, no homework, no bullies and no listening to the arguing of my parents!

With a laugh, I flung myself down a slope and rolled to the bottom like a fat, furry egg. The grass tickled my nose.

The sky was as blue as ever, like an azure diamond, and the plants were greener than green. How strange; I had never noticed it before. How beautiful the world looked from here; it almost tore my breath away.

I stretched out on the grass, content to just lie here for the rest of the day. The sun was in the middle of the great expanse of blue, and it hovered above me lazily like a giant bee.

I closed my eyes to the feeling of the breeze stroking my cheek and its crisp whispering in my ear.

A scent unexpectedly invaded my nose. It was weird, how I could suddenly smell better now. Sitting up, I curled my tail into a question mark as I sniffed the scent blowing on the wind.

More cats were coming. I sighed. The sun had lulled me into sleepiness, and I didn't feel like running anymore.

In the distance, three feline shapes were hurtling toward me like meteors, and they looked absolutely _furious. _They practically looked like _tigers: _their claws were out and gleaming and they had a murderous look in their hostile gazes.

With a yelp, I leaped to my paws and tried to dash back to the safety of the forest, but they were on me like lightning.

The bristling cats surrounded me and hissed. Instinctively, I crouched down and curled my tail protectively around my body, and hissed back.

"A rogue," one of the brutes mused. "What do you suppose we should do with her, Harespring?"

The small, white one snickered. "We should teach lowly rogues like her not to trespass onto WindClan territory!"

My hackles began to rise. Who did these idiots think they were?

"Hey!" I protested, putting on a brave face. "I'm not a lowly rogue! My name is Sam."

Harespring growled, "It doesn't matter to us. The point is that you're standing where you shouldn't."

I began to back away nervously, my anger suddenly dying away. "W-well I didn't know."

They glared at me dangerously and stalked toward me as I edged away.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a nearby tree with its bark flaking into dry pieces.

My gaze flickered from here to there, and before I knew what I was even doing, I flung myself to the side and sank my claws into the wood, grappling desperately for a secure hold as I scrabbled my way up the tree.

They yowled in rage and tore after me, but I was already safe on top of the highest branch.

It creaked dangerously, but I only sank my claws in deeper.

The patrol of WindClan cats glowered at me and pawed at the trunk in frustration. Their mutterings were music to my ears.

"Hah!" I crowed down at them triumphantly. "Can't get me now! Losers!"

"You just wait, you little piece of fox dung!"

"I'm going to rip your ears off!"

Their insults made me tighten my grip on the branch, but at least I was safe up here.

Breathing a sweet sigh of relief, I relaxed my muscles. Unfortunately, the wind rocked my perch to and fro so that I was always in danger of falling.

The trio had curiously grown silent. I peered down at what they were doing.

"Done sulking yet?" I meowed. "There's no point. Just run back to where you came from."

"I'd say the same for you," a smug voice replied. It sounded so close to where I was sitting that I nearly jumped out of my skin in fright.

My hind leg slipped. With my heart beating up to my throat, I quickly scrambled for a secure hold and wrapped the quivering branch with both of my arms. That was a close one.

"Hey!" I barked.

The warriors were flinging up their hind legs and kicking the trunk with all of the strength they could muster. The tree wobbled and bent as they tried to knock me off the perch. A few leaves floated down.

Harespring had a tight hold on the bark and was now slowly but surely climbing up toward me, inch by agonizing inch.

"You'd better say your prayers, rogue," he smirked.

By now, I was too terrified to spit back an insult. What was he going to do to me? Knock me to the ground and wring my neck?

For a heartbeat, I longed to return to my house, where I could dive down under the covers and be safe.

He was now so close that I could see the angry glint of his claws in the sun. The tree was shaking more now, like me.

I wanted to cry out for help, but shrank back at the thought of how pathetic I would look. Come on! Wasn't there anyone out there who was kind enough to lend a helping hand?

A male voice suddenly yowled, "Stop!"

All of us snapped to attention as a shape came blundering through the woods. The ginger and white tabby was plunging toward us at full speed, his amber eyes intent on the WindClan cats.

"You're on ThunderClan territory!" he meowed in a voice that spoke of command and authority, although he couldn't be older than an apprentice.

Harespring snapped, "What do you want?"

"You've stepped over the border. You should get a move on before I have to chase you off."

I marveled at how this apprentice spoke so calmly, although my paws were itching to spring off and hide somewhere safe.

One of the WindClan cats looked at his paws and said, "He's right."

Harespring swung his head around and glared. Finally, he unhooked his claws from the tree, although he didn't look like he was going to leave anytime soon.

He towered over the apprentice. The ThunderClan cat showed no fear at all, and only gave an impatient twitch of his tail.

"If you don't leave soon," he warned. "I'm going to have to call Bramblestar over. And you know how he just _loves _trespassers."

The two other WindClan cats visibly shuddered and meowed, "Really, Harespring, we should get going now. Fun's over."

Harespring glowered at his friends, and opened his mouth to say something.

But then he shut it again, and growled, "Just don't get in our way," and trotted off to his side of the land with an indignant huff.

When they were gone, the ThunderClan apprentice said, "You can come down now."

"Oh." I shrank deeper among the leaves to hide my embarrassment. "Th-thanks for saving me there."

"No problem," he answered, and smiled. "My name is Scorchpaw. I was out hunting for my mentor, although I didn't catch anything." The tip of his tail twitched. "The prey is so jittery this morning. So who're you?"

"Sam. Samantha."

"Samantha?"

I nodded.

He looked up at me from the ground. "What are you waiting for? Are you coming down?"

"There's just…one little problem."

"What is it?"

I hid my face. "I don't know how to climb down."

OOooOoooOOoOoOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooOoOOooooOoO

Jayfeather grunted as he lapped the herb poultice onto a small cut on my paw while I tried not to flinch away. "There. That's the only injury there is." He sat back and observed his handiwork. "Why did you run away?"

"It's like you've never seen cats before," Briarlight joked mildly.

I drew my paw back and studied it, and muttered, "I've never met cats that could talk."

Scorchpaw tipped his head to one side. "That's a bit weird to say. Where have you been living?"

"Nowhere special," I mumbled.

My eyes flashed, and I sat up. "And another thing. You guys aren't even supposed to be real!"

Another confused look from all three of them. "What?"

I glanced down and sighed. "You know what, it's nothing."

Jayfeather's ears flicked as someone entered the den. "Bramblestar has come to see you," he explained.

Bramblestar? He meant Brambleclaw, right? Or did Firestar die already? I regretted not reading the rest of the series.

The dark brown tom was muscular and broad-shouldered; his amber eyes were deep and piercing and his mouth was set in a grim line. If any cat was worthy and powerful enough to be the great Tigerstar's son, Bramblestar was definitely it.

He dipped his head, and I awkwardly nodded in return. "Greetings," he rumbled. He blinked as he gazed at me up and down. "My warriors found you unconscious at the edge of our territory this morning. I was wondering; where did you come from?"

For some reason, I wanted to keep my human roots and past as a secret. Animal instincts I guess, where I knew what was wrong and what was right, and knew just when things were supposed to happen.

I told him that I was just a wandering loner. The answer seemed to satisfy him, and he heaved himself to his paws.

"I've been wondering," he mewed. "Since you're a loner, you've got nowhere else to go. Why not join ThunderClan?"

I nearly shot out of my nest. _That _got my attention.

"Y-you mean it?" I gasped. My eyes grew wide in surprise as my heart thudded quickly against my chest.

"Of course," he rumbled. "We could always manage a new apprentice."

I stood frozen for the next few seconds, the thoughts in my head whirling so fast that I couldn't read them all. It was a tornado of emotions.

Finally, when I came to my senses, I realized that my jaw was slightly agape, and I closed it.

I gave a barely perceptible nod, and leaned back against the soft moss.

OoOOOOoOoOOooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooOooOooOOOoo

The trees and the grass swayed together in the wind and in harmony. The birds warbled endlessly among the shadows of the leaves, and the cerulean sky was infinite and boundless. I gazed up at it, thinking about everything and how I got here.

I was free at last; free as the birds! I didn't have to hear the endless bickering of my parents. A new life awaited me.

What were they doing back home? Did they notice I was gone.

And what would Ashley say?

I quickly pushed the nagging doubt further back into the deepest reaches of my mind and buried it under memories. My other life was over. I was starting anew.

I was going to be a warrior!

I sat up on my hind legs and stretched my arms apart, as far as they would go, as if I wanted to hug the whole world.

"It's mine," I mewed, to the trees, to the grass, to no one in particular. "All mine."


	4. Chapter 3-Broken Vessel

CHAPTER 3-Broken Vessel

The clearing was as silent as a warm, midsummer afternoon. Countless faces stared expectantly up at me with yellow, green, and blue glowing eyes. A black butterfly flitted pleasantly through the dappled center of the clearing, but the butterflies of my own kept tangling and writhing inside my stomach.

"From this day on, until you receive your warrior name, you will be known as Stormpaw," Bramblestar's booming voice echoed around the group of cats like a bronze bell. Each and every word was clear and crisp, as he had said the same exact words many sunrises ago. It astonished me, how he could look so ecstatic and alert even though he had gone through the apprentice ceremonies so many times that he now knew the whole thing by heart. If I were leader and was forced to recite the matching lines every six moons, I'd be clawing my hair out with boredom by saying the same things over and over again. It was just so boring.

Was this what it was like to be leader? Sitting up in the throne above everyone else, giving speeches, talking words, talking the same old, same exact words with no change and no stopping, season after season after season?

I stared down nervously at the crowd below us. They all gazed back at me expectantly, some with bored looks, others with kind smiles. I searched through the sea, peering closely at their faces, wondering what kind of a person my mentor was going to be. I hoped he was someone I read about in the books, not just a random old stranger.

What if he was like all my other teachers?! I imagined myself sitting in my desk in detention for the fourth time that month, the wrinkly prune teacher squinting and eyeing me closely from her desk to make sure I didn't do anything other than sit there and stare dully at the whiteboard. She had a mouth all puckered up, like she had just bit into something sour. Sinking my claws into the ledge, I shook my head and winced. No, training to be a warrior was definitely going to be more exciting than algebra two! Stop being so paranoid, Sam. Oh great, now I'm talking to myself.

Bramblestar's bronze voice snapped me out of my thoughts. "Your mentor will be Dewstep. I hope he passes down all he knows to you."

Pawsteps crunched in the dirt behind me. I perked up my ears and turned around slowly, and regarded the bedraggled grey tom standing there. He shifted from one paw to the other, and his dull amber eyes stared at something that was not me. Dozens of battle scars crisscrossed his pelt, pink where the fur hadn't grown back. His ears were little more than shreds. He didn't look like some heroic, fairy tale prince at all. He looked like a ruin, like a soldier with way too many chinks in his armor and who now stood in a forgotten little corner, too small and tiny to be of any good use. He was a broken. I guess, if I thought about it, he looked a lot like me when I glanced at myself in the bathroom mirror. We were both the same, and that was terrible.

I blinked at him, my excitement turning into withered disappointment, and looked away. I was hoping that my mentor would be someone awesome, like Lionblaze or Brightheart, not this castaway cat that looked as exciting as a rock. I could tell he wasn't too thrilled to be with me either.

As we stood next to each other awkwardly, the clan chanted, "Stormpaw, Stormpaw!"

Stormpaw. The name felt as sweet as honey on my tongue, when suddenly I felt a pang of fear as cold and raw as ice. I fluffed up my fur and shook myself furiously. Why was I such a scaredy-cat?

"Your training as a warrior begins today," Dewstep announced as he bounded off of the Highledge. His long legs covered a lot of ground in one stride, and he turned and waited as I quickly caught up to him. "A lot of other loners like you joined ThunderClan in the past two years, so you'll fit in fine."

My eyes gleamed as a prickle of excitement surged down my spine. "Am I going to learn some battle moves?" I wanted to meet up with Harespring again and show him just what I was made out of.

To my disappointment, he shook his head and replied, "Not today. The other apprentices and the mentors will be exploring the territory, so you'll follow along with them."

My ears flattened. Tramping around all day instead of fighting? Geez, how boring could this geezer get?

"Hey, Stormpaw." Scorchpaw nodded at me as he padded closer. The ginger patches looked like autumn leaves on his neat white fur. The small, light grey tabby she-cat from this morning bounded cheerfully at his heels like an eager kitten. I scanned myself and noticed that my pelt was messy and muddled. My cheeks burned in shame. They both looked so clean and tidy. What did they do, take a bath in the Lake every morning? Ugh.

If they noticed my dirty fur, they didn't show it.

The small she-cat's blue eyes were as bright and cloudless as the summer sky. "Hello, newbie!" she chirped. "My name's Silverpaw." I eyed her warily. Her soft grey coat was banded with darker stripes, like a handiwork of lines and parallels.

"Oh, hi," I mumbled. She looked nice enough, but people like her could also be annoying. I hoped she didn't think of me as a friend.

She looked off to the side and pointed with her tail. "That's my sister, Wolfpaw. You'll like her, I think."

I followed her gaze, hoping that I didn't seem rude. A sleek, dark grey she-cat appeared from inside a den and glanced up at the sun, screwing up her eyes and blinking at the sudden brightness. The slash of white on her chest glittered like fresh snow. Her shoulders were wide and muscular.

She caught my eye and acknowledged me with a friendly wave of her tail.

As we gathered at the center of the clearing, I jerked my head impatiently at the exit in the gorse tunnel. "What are we waiting for? Let's get going." The sooner we left, the sooner we could finish this.

Scorchpaw's mentor, Falconwind, flicked his tail with amusement across my nose. "Patience, newcomer," he purred. "One of us is still getting ready."

I growled, low enough so that no one heard. Whoever was taking this long shouldn't deserve to tag along and slow us all down.

Two cats sitting outside of a den caught my attention. The queen was licking and grooming an apprentice, but the young cat didn't look too pleased. Her mother had to wrestle her to the ground and hold her down while her tongue rasped and cleaned the long fur.

Scorchpaw leaned close to me. His breath was on my ear as he whispered, "That's Featherpaw and her mother, Ivypool."

Featherpaw rolled and wrestled, getting more dust into her pelt, before jerking free from the queen and scampering over to us. I edged away from her, but she didn't even give so much as a glimpse at my direction.

She sneezed from the sand and began licking her paw, pretending as if nothing had happened. While she was distracted, I studied her. Her white fur was speckled with spots of pale gray, so pale and invisible that I had to lean in real closely to count them. Her sharp green eyes were focused on grooming her paw. They looked like eagle eyes. I was certain that she could spot a mouse from a mile away if she tried.

Ivypool strode toward her and rasped her tongue over Featherpaw's ear. She murmured, "Stay safe, alright?"

Featherpaw got up and padded behind Falconwind and didn't answer.

Ivypool's presence here was odd. None of the other mothers scampered over here to bid good day to their apprentices.

As if sensing my confusion, Scorchpaw explained quietly, "Featherpaw isn't the only kit of her litter. Ivypool and Foxleap actually had three other kits: two were stillborn and the other was so weak that he died after a few days. Ivypool hasn't been herself since then. She's a bit overprotective, if you know what I mean."

Then, as if he had spoken too loudly, he gave his chest fur a couple of licks while averting Ivypool's concerned eyes.

Falconwind announced brightly, "Right, then. Let's go." With a wave of his tail, we followed him out of the camp.

At last! I was afraid that we would have to wait around in the clearing all day.

The forest air was crisp and warm. Sunlight dappled the leaves and my pelt, making the tortoiseshell patches look like they had blotches of bright golden in between. A butterfly flitted through the air; Silverpaw pounced, and then looked away sheepishly, hoping that no one saw her.

Dewstep mewed, "How about we start off at the Sky Oak? The apprentices will race each other there. It'll get your heart pumping and strengthen your legs."

A little jog sounded nice in the cool shade of the towering trees.

The five of us crouched down, and at Dewstep's signal, we tore our way through the undergrowth. Dirt and pebbles flew out from underneath me. My paws thudded heavily against the mossy floor.

I was in the lead at first, but slowly, one by one, they began to pass me. Wolfpaw quickly stole the lead and shot off like a rocket until I couldn't see her anymore. My breath caught in my throat as I eyed her in awe. Were her legs made out of springs?

Featherpaw caught up to me. We ran side by side for a while, until she too picked up the pace and dashed away.

The trees were blurs and the darn air wouldn't get into my heavy lungs. My paws were growing heavier and heavier until my strength was nearly drained. My breath came in short gasps.

I was desperate to be the first one there. Come on, come on! I urged my legs to move faster, but they only gave me half-hearted shrugs in reply.

Scorchpaw and Silverpaw, who had been behind me this whole time, began to pass me like the others.

I groaned through my panting gasps. Was I going to be last? My tongue felt dry and my lungs were made of fire.

Silverpaw's eyes, however, were shining like two clear, cool pools of water. "Come on!" she mewed. "Let's run together."

As the three of us jogged side-by-side, way behind everybody else, and as I was puffing and chuffing up the hill like a fat and sweaty beaver, I realized that maybe being friends with Silverpaw wouldn't be so bad after all.

OooOOooooooOOOoooooooOOooOoOOooooOoOoOOOoo

The stream gurgled merrily and chugged along like a watery train, never stopping, never ceasing. Little minnows darted among the reeds like mini arrows, and I had a sudden urge to dive in and test my luck in catching them.

The sun was smack dab in the middle of the sky. It was sweltering, and I felt weighted down by my fur jacket. If only I could shed it all away!

A loud splash sounded and I wrinkled my nose as I was suddenly showered in a swarm of glittering droplets.

Scorchpaw and Silverpaw were splashing each other like a pair of playful seals. Their wet fur glistened in the heat.

"Come on," Scorchpaw offered. He swatted a paw at my direction, sending a glittering wave cascading toward me. "Jump in. The water isn't too cold."

I didn't need any more coaxing.

"Cannon ball!" With a leap and bound and a hoot of laughter, I propelled myself off the bank and made a swan dive into the gurgling stream.

I surfaced and streaked along the shallow bottom, flicking up my tail to splash water onto Silverpaw's face. She giggled.

"Mmph," Dewstep grunted. He was hunched in the shade looking absolutely grumpy. His face suggested a crabby old man whose lawn just got overrun with a bunch of hyperactive kids.

"Stop wading around like a pack of Twolegs!" he called. "The sooner we get around the border, the sooner we can leave."

Falconwind chuckled. "Don't worry about them, Dewstep. Let them have a bit of fun. We'll leave when we've had a rest." Dewstep only grunted again and closed his eyes.

Wolfpaw was lying under the shade of an overhanging pine branch, her blue eyes half-closed and sleepy. Featherpaw was sitting farther away than everybody else. Her back was to me, but I could tell that she was dabbing her paw at something. A beetle, probably.

A wave of cold water gushing over me, knocking me out of my thoughts. I rose up to the surface, sputtering, flailing around wildly with a flash of panic before I got a firm grip of the bottom with my hind paws.

Silverpaw spat out a mouthful of water and grinned cheekily.

My eyes flashed mischievously. "Just you wait!"

With all of the strength I could muster, I bunched up my paws and heaved a huge surge of water straight at her. With a sharp squeak, she disappeared under the grey torrent that threatened to overflow the banks.

The water lapped and rose and heaved like the sighing of a great beast. I smiled, flicking drops out of my ears, marveling at how strong I was.

Scorchpaw winced and coughed. "She should be resurfacing by now." There was a hint of anxiety in his voice.

"Yeah…"

I gazed down at the stream. There was no sign of her at all. It was as if she had disappeared.

Horror suddenly opened its jaws and I stared terrifyingly into its yawning maw. What if…the current dragged her away? If she drowned?

She should have resurfaced by now! What was taking her so long?

"Silverpaw?" I whispered uncertainly. Where there should have been a hint of fur, a shadow underwater, there was none.

Dewstep padded toward us, his amber eyes stern and his ears suddenly pricked and alert.

He meowed, "What happened?" He glared austerely at the two of us. "Where's Silverpaw?"

"I-um-we—" I stammered.

Without any warning, a sleek grey head lunged out of the water, sending the stream cascading upwards and blooming like a blue blossom. Silverpaw coughed. Streams gushed out her ears like waterfalls and tiny rivulets ran down her wet fur.

She was about to say something, but our shocked and worried faces startled her for a bit. She splashed teasingly at me, but I didn't feel like playing our little game again. I wanted to get out of the stream. My heart was still pounding like I had run ten miles.

I shrank back as Dewstep glowered at me, and his mouth was set in a grim line.

"Get out," the sour-puss ordered. "Our rest is over."

OoOooOOOoOOOOOOOOOOOOooOooOooOooOOoOooOOoo

The trek back took longer, mostly because I didn't want to walk in sopping wet fur. I hissed in annoyance as my paws squelched every time I brought them down.

"You'll dry off soon in this heat," Wolfpaw responded with a hint of amusement in her voice. She thinks I look funny when I waddle like a duck.

I was falling behind the others.

Dewstep stopped and called back, "Get a move on, Stormpaw! Walk faster."

When he looked away, I rolled my eyes. Calm the heck down, geez. We had all the time in the world.

I dragged myself slower and slower until the others disappeared down the hill and left me. Sighing, I plopped down and squinted up at the red-hot sun. The heat pounded into my head and made me dizzy. If only I could shed my fur off like a coat.

I closed my eyes and was content to just stay there for the rest of the day, lazily soaking up the rays and not moving even an inch. I could be an apprentice later.

My spine suddenly went cold and rigid. I snapped my eyes open again, and in a flash, I had leaped to my paws and my ears were pricked and alert. The others had gone. I was the only one in the woods.

But I still couldn't calm down. I felt something hidden and unknown, staring at me from the depths of the shadows, its intent gaze boring into mine. I shivered. My hackles began to rise. Stupid Sam, I scolded myself. There's nothing there. Nothing but the trees and the birds.

Instinct, it must be. Or I could just be paranoid.

Wait—something moved. Something among the undergrowth and the ferns; a little, tiny subtle swaying of a tail, a blinking of invisible eyes, parted jaws, whiskers that twitched and heaved with every little breath.

Two round, green feline eyes glowing against the curled plants in the forest. They blinked, looked deep into my own, and then they vanished. That gaze alone spoke words that I didn't know, stopped time that I didn't have and made the world halt dead in its tracks.

Who was this mysterious stranger that dared to trespass in my land? Fluffing up my fur, I yowled, "Hey! Come back!"

Something large and burly crashed through the trees. Stalks crunched underpaw.

I quickly gave chase, my heart thudding with exhilaration and my paws running nimbly as if they were weightless.

I caught a whiff of WindClan scent. It wasn't Harespring though, or anyone I knew, but it didn't matter.

This was more like it! This felt like living! Chasing away trespassers certainly beat tramping around all day in the sun.

The wind whistled and howled in my ears as I whipped past long, sharp grass and tangled bushes. They scratched my eyes but I didn't care.

He was always just out of reach. He was like a quick blur, a nimble shadow, one minute he was there, and then he wasn't. His legs were blurs and the trees always hid him from view.

I followed the racket of his blundering and watched as the tip of his tail disappeared, weaving, among the branches.

I was slowing down, but I couldn't let him get away! No use; this WindClan cat had legs made out of springs.

Panting heavily, I was just about to give up when suddenly I ran smack dab into a wall of red fur.

A sharp voice, vicious and high, jostled my ears and brought me skidding to a halt.

I reeled back in surprise and shook the pain from my head. And then I recoiled in terror. The liveliness from moments before evaporated as I took in the sight of a full-grown fox glowering down at me.

But the fear was short-lived. Growling, I tackled it and lurched onto her back, sinking my claws into her shoulder blades. A mangy fox didn't belong in my turf!

Her golden eyes widened in surprise as she thrashed around wildly, trying to throw me off. She reached her head back, snapping her teeth furiously, attempting to grab me, but I was just out of her reach.

"Don't let me catch you here again!" I meowed triumphantly. I was jostled around but only dug my claws in deeper.

The fox was making a heck of a lot of noise. She howled her head off and growled and bit and tore, spun around in a violent frenzy, and kicked up her hind legs like a raging bull and slashed her way through the leaves.

Dewstep burst out into view with the others hard on his heels.

He halted in surprise. "Stormpaw!" he yelled. "What in StarClan's name are you doing?!"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" I hissed back. If I wasn't so focused on hanging on I would've rolled my eyes at him. That mouse-brained old geezer. How thick was his skull? "I'm chasing away this fox!"

With a surprised cry, I was yanked off of the snarling fox by the scruff of my neck and was dumped awkwardly onto the ground.

Rubbing my bruised neck, I glared up at Dewstep as he scowled back with eyes of fury.

He lashed his tail and snarled, "How flea-brained can you get? She's not an enemy!"

His ears were folded back and his claws were out. He looked like Engelbreit when he was trying to claw his way out of his bath.

Bristling, I stood up until we were nose-to-nose. Our faces were so close together that I could feel his angry breath, and if I wanted to, I could cuff his ears with my paws.

"What do you mean, that she's not the enemy?" I spat. "It's a stupid fox on ThunderClan land!"

Dewstep looked as if I had actually slapped him across the face. In a low, warning tone, he growled, "Don't you dare call her stupid ever again."

Silverpaw's timid voice rose up to my ears as she shyly padded up to me. "Stormpaw, it's—"

I swung my head around and bared my teeth. The idiot quickly shut up and scampered away. Good for her!

Meanwhile, the dang fox was sitting on her haunches, licking her scratches like she actually owned the place. I stalked toward her. Dewstep or no Dewstep, I wanted to give her a piece of my mind. Without warning, she glanced up and noticed me. I expected her to growl and snarl like the savage she was, but she actually opened her mouth and asked, "Who _are_ you?"

I stopped in my tracks. My jaw slightly agape in disbelief, I turned toward Scorchpaw, hoping that he would tell me just why there was a perfectly normal-looking fox sitting there and actually _talking. _

None of the other cats looked even remotely surprised that the fox had opened her mouth and talked.

With a nervous laugh, I asked, "E-excuse me? Am I missing something here? Foxes aren't supposed to—"

Wolfpaw turned to me calmly with her deep blue eyes and explained, "Ember's not an ordinary vixen. She's a part of ThunderClan. One of our warriors, in fact."

I cocked my head to one side. Searching her gaze, I hoped that she was just pulling my leg.

But she looked absolutely dead serious.

I furrowed my brow. "So you're training foxes as warriors? What next? Badgers?"

The fox (her name was Ember?), regarded me silently with stern eyes. Then all of a sudden, she gave me a toothy grin. Those jagged golden teeth sent shivers down my spine. She could have easily snapped me in half when we were wrestling, so why didn't she? Could it be that she was actually holding back?

"So you're new here," she said. It didn't sound like a question. I didn't say anything.

She continued, "Your name is Stormpaw, then? I'm Ember. Sorry about the fight. I was just a bit startled when you came across me like that," although she didn't sound the least bit sorry. I scowled in reply.

Dewstep barged between us and mewed coldly, "I apologize on her behalf, Ember. It seems that we must be going now. Good day to you." Giving her a small nod and shooting me a dirty look, he turned and strode away, beckoning to me with his tail.

The fox stared after me with narrowed eyes before turning and walking away in the opposite direction. I watched as her bright scarlet fur gradually disappeared into the green of the woods.

With the grumpy geezer out of earshot, I whispered to Scorchpaw, "Why are they letting foxes join our Clan? It's dangerous."

He shrank away from me at first. I regretted my angry outburst earlier, but perked up when he replied, "Ember's not dangerous at all. She's just different. Dewstep trusts her."

"Do _you _trust her?" I asked.

"Of course," he replied at once.

I huffed. Fox warriors? Was I going to see duck soldiers parading around RiverClan and lizards standing guard in front of ShadowClan? The whole idea just seemed dumb. How could the queens let a fox near their kits? How could they even allow it to come near their camp? Who knows, maybe the mutt might just snap one day and go on a bloody rampage.

Scorchpaw's whiskers twitched. "Don't worry," he mewed. "It might seem strange to see her wandering around the camp, but you'll get used to it."

I didn't believe him. I reminded myself to keep looking back over my shoulder, in case she came after me one day in the hopes of getting revenge.

Featherpaw was in my line of sight, and unexpectantly, I actually began to notice her. She was quiet, oddly quiet. When she realized that I was staring at her, I quickly looked away in embarrassment. There was something strange about her.

She hadn't said a single word in the whole entire day. She didn't even make so much as a meow.

I whispered to Scorchpaw, "What's wrong with her?"

His ears twitched and he blinked. Sliding his gaze away, he took a deep breath before answering. "Featherpaw was born different. She wasn't complete, the medicine cats said."

At the funny look on my face, he quickly said, "No, no, her head's fine. She can think as clearly as me or you. But…" His voice trailed off.

I tilted my head to the side to blink at him quizzically.

Glancing back at me, he finally continued, "She was born with some parts missing from her throat. Can't speak. Can't talk. Can't even make a sound, no matter how small it is. For the rest of her life, no one will be able to hear the sound of her voice. But there's more. Um…" He cleared his throat. "The medicine cats…they say that it could affect her life."

I knew what he meant, but I wanted to make sure. "And?" I asked.

"Her lifespan. She won't be able to live as long as Silverpaw or me or Wolfpaw. Her days are numbered. It's only a matter of time before she…before she…"

So that's the real reason why Ivypool kept fussing over her. That's why all the elders gave her sympathetic glances practically every few minutes. Featherpaw was doomed to live a life without a voice, without a complete throat, without the chance of growing old like the rest of us.

"When?" I asked quietly.

"Not soon. Don't worry, it won't happen soon at all. She'll be able to become a warrior, that much is certain. And she's strong, you see. She could climb halfway up the Sky Oak when she was only a kit, and she's almost as fast as Wolfpaw. She can hunt, she can fight like the rest of us."

"Oh."

That's all I could say. What was there to say?

Slowing down my pace, I let her catch up to me.

As friendly as I could, I smiled brightly and meowed, "Hi, Featherpaw." She glanced at me with a bored expression and looked away.

Crap, did I look too cheerful? Was my grin too wide?

I tried again. "So, what's it like living in ThunderClan? Do you like it here?"

I facepalmed myself mentally. Smooth move, Sam, asking a voiceless cat these kinds of questions. It's not like she could answer me.

Featherpaw suddenly shot me a quick glare and sprinted away.

I stood there, dejected. What did I do wrong?

Wolfpaw blinked at me sympathetically. "It's alright, Stormpaw," she said. "She's like that with practically every cat. You just get used to her temper. That's all there is to it."

I sighed and nodded.

On the way back to camp, I couldn't help but think about the voiceless cat. What was it like?

I remembered her glare, and scowled. She had no right to look at me as if I were a piece of fresh-kill! Who did she think she was? Just because her mother took extra care of her didn't mean she was anything special.

At the sound of Dewstep's gruff voice, I picked up the pace and continued on the rest of the way toward the ThunderClan clearing.

But still, I shouldn't let Featherpaw weigh me down. I had a lot more things to look forward to. I wasn't Samantha Piper any longer. My name was Stormpaw, and I was now a ThunderClan apprentice!

**Hum. I was rereading and realized that her thoughts sounded awfully cluttered. It could just be me, though.**

**If you have time, I would appreciate some advice or a bit of critique. I want to improve on my writing skills.**


	5. Chapter 4-Luminous Souls

CHAPTER 4-Luminous Souls

Snowstorm remembered the day he died. He remembered it like a fuzzy dream at the back of his head, something like a small puff drifting in the current of a lukewarm wind. He couldn't really recall everything that happened in his last day on the Lake, but he did remember the feeling of the Darkling's jaws clamping down on him like a steel trap, the despairing and hollow poison that infested his heart and spread from the tips of his ears to the length of his tail and left him numb, empty, broken. The last thing he ever saw was the horrified face of Dewstep gazing at him, wide-eyed and bristling. It didn't look like his brother's face at all. His brother was supposed to be strong and unyielding, hot-headed and able to stare down a vicious adder, but now, he was as helpless as a newborn kit. Snowstorm didn't blame him. He blamed no one. It was his own fault and no one else's.

But the one thing he wanted to do before he died, right at that split second, was to see Shadefrost one last time. He wanted to see her again. He wanted to hear her voice and feel her tail twining with his, and just gaze into those bright brown eyes that promised nothing but Newleaf and hope and feathered dreams.

He didn't get his wish, not until much, much later. And he wasn't sure if he would ever see her again.

When he first padded into the starry realm of StarClan, all those moons ago on the night of his death, he didn't know how beautiful it would look.

It was mesmerizing. It was gorgeous. It was simply, unarguably beautiful and stunning, and there was no one in the whole world who could tell him otherwise. The stars twinkled and whirled together in unison in the black velvet curtains of the twilight sky. They flashed violet and navy blue and black and brilliant azure, like the petals of flowers, like pollen, like tiny endlessly rippling eyes. Whole galaxies and planets came together and burst apart and whirled before him. They danced. They sang. They roared with all their might, and they welcomed him with outstretched arms, singing.

Snowstorm padded on starlight. He would never be able to doze in the warrior den, feigning sleep so that he could skip the dawn patrol. He would never be able to argue with his sister or brother ever again. He wouldn't be able to just sit there in the quiet woods and gaze off into the purple mountains, wondering where his life would lead him and what kind of a cat he was going to be. He was nothing but a ghost now, gone, dead. His story had ended right when the Darkling tore his life from him and hurled it way beyond his reach.

_Don't think about your past, _Thunder rumbled.

_ You're nothing but a spirit now, _Feathertail's soft voice whispered in his hear like the hushed voice of a spider's husk. _But you're safe here._

Snowstorm had a feeling that they had said those same words to every befuddled newcomer they came across, but he said nothing.

As the singsong voices washed over him like the gentle tide of an ocean wave, he lifted his head up and blinked, the asteroids and comets reflected in his hollow, sad eyes.

OoOoOooOoOOOOoOoOOOoOOooOooooooooooOoOoO

He never knew that Silverpelt was so large and looming. He only thought of StarClan as a cluster of pulsing orbs and nothing else.

But it was a whole world up here, an entire realm, with glowing stars and flowering purple galaxies and moons and pitch-black drapery. The things that inhabitated StarClan weren't always cat-like. Once or twice, he came across creatures that didn't even look remotely feline. They had eyes and slits and mouths and claws and ridged spines fixed to their backs, and they regarded him as he passed, but they never said anything. Some of them slithered, others oozed, and still others had one foot or less.

A strange place, Snowstorm thought, but probably for the better.

He had trouble adjusting. Another thing he learned was that ghosts saw time differently. It passed quicker, much, much more quicker. It could be sunrise one moment and sunset a minute later. Snowstorm didn't really care. He felt like he had been here for only a few moons, when in reality it could have been years or whole decades, but he flicked time away from him like a pesky fly. Let the living deal with time, he thought. The dead deserves some rest.

He pushed his memories so far into the back of his brain that they were now buried and forgotten. He never expected to think about Brightheart or Dewstep or Shadefrost ever again. They were only transparent films of dust that could easily be swept away with a single brush of his paw, and he let their names and their faces crumble and blow away.

Nothing lasted forever. Not one single tiny thing, not a tiny flower, or a drop of dew, or a warm sunshine ray.

He dozed off in his grave and slept like a log.

OoOoOoOoOoOOOooOoOOoOooOooOOOooooOOoOOOOo

It was a little bit of a shock when he suddenly remembered them again.

He and the stick-thing sat overlooking a swath of landscape covered in stars. It glowed and pulsed with a silvery sheen.

The stick-thing had a name, but it was so foreign to him that Snowstorm decided to just forget about it.

It was talking. "I've been up here for a century. Maybe a millennium, maybe more. Time works differently when you've been dead for so long."

Snowstorm nodded. He knew.

"And it makes you forget things. Your treasure. You have one, don't you?" the thing said, its nose twitching.

Snowstorm didn't answer. He remembered, very faintly, of a sun washing over a glittering lake and of splashing, laughter, tiny minnows darting between his paws.

He shook his head, but the memory lingered for a little while longer like a dream.

"What do you know about treasure," he said. "You're only a stick-thing."

"Don't speak nonsense now, dear," it whispered. Its dainty paws groomed itself in an almost cat-like fashion. Its large wet eyes were haunting. "'Most everyone has a treasure. Look deeper. Once you find something you hold dear in your heart, you must hold on to it with both paws and never let go. Defend it with your life."

Snowstorm thought it was a bit funny, the last bit, but he didn't laugh. The face of a black she-cat flashed in his mind, but he didn't know her name. She was a stranger.

He meowed, "I am already dead. I have nothing to stand for anymore. StarClan is only a place for spirits who have nowhere else to go."

"Not so, young warrior. The dew here glitters like tiny stars, and you can wash them away with a single step. Frost is nonexistent in StarClan, because there are no seasons. The stars shine brightly, but they hide shades in their core. Do you see? No matter how beautiful or brilliant StarClan may be, it is nothing compared to where you came from. There is nothing here but space and blackness and comets. But, where you come from, you can see the sun."

Snowstorm stiffened. His thoughts and memories came crashing down on him like a downpour of sudden rain, and no matter how hard he wanted to push it back, the flood lapped against his ears and threatened to drown him.

He turned his gaze to stare at the stick-thing. "Shadefrost," he said. "She left me. She said that she would come back, but she never did. What if she's forgotten about me? About us?"

The thing rumbled as if in soft laughter. "Young warrior, never fear. She has a brave heart and wings of flame and fury. Nothing is impossible for her."

"Maybe she doesn't want to come back."

The thing stood up on its hind legs like a long and thin squirrel. She cocked her head to one side. "Let me tell you something, warrior. There are some things that you can never know for certain, and still, you can't help but desperately cling onto the hope that it will happen. If you believe hard enough, and you wait long enough, chances are it will happen. Maybe not now. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe you'll have to wait a thousand years. But never lose hope."

Snowstorm turned away and contemplated. These quiet days were spent mostly on thinking. "Then..." his voice shook. "I will see Shadefrost again."

The prospect startled him and he dropped it. It shattered onto the ground into hundreds of pieces, but it left a small tear on his paw. It would heal and scar over, and it would still be there and he wouldn't forget it.

The stick-thing got up to leave.

"Wait," Snowstorm mewed. "What was your name again?"

She told him. It sounded like a distant melody. And then she gathered up her bundle and swam away into the river of swarming stars, and under the light of the glowing moon she looked almost like a queer, strange sort of weasel.

Snowstorm heaved himself to his paws and drifted away in the opposite direction. Shadefrost was coming back. He would see her again. And the Clans, too.

And Dewstep, and Amberlight, and all the others. He was nothing but a dead, floating spirit with a grave and no body of his own, but he was a spirit with some haunting to do.


	6. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

The nights were cool here. And they were quiet, too. The only things I could ever hear were the soft murmurings of owls and the quiet shushing of the grass whispering to each other. As the world settled down for sleep, the noise disappeared, as if a bulb had been turned off.

"You like stories?" Silverpaw asked me, her blue eyes glowing eagerly in the dark. I huffed out of my nose and shrugged. "Not especially," I replied. The stories I ever read always told about heroes, brave soldiers and leaders who saved the world. They always did things that I never could.

She leaped to her paws and blinked at me, her tail waving excitedly. "Come on," she mewed. "The elders'll tell us some."

And Purdy, I found, told the best ones.

He was frail and old and was practically nothing but a bag of bones. The long, rugged fur on his face fanned outward like a beard, and his whiskers were a mess of white string.

"A story, eh?" he rasped, with a glint in his orange eyes and a twitch of his tangled whiskers. "I thought I told you all the ones ah knew."

"Then tell Stormpaw," Silverpaw pleaded. "Tell her the one about the Guardian of the Lake. Pretty please?" Her eyes gleamed.

I tipped my head to one side and asked, "Who's the Guardian of the Lake?" He sounded like some sort of hero. From StarClan, maybe?

"Gather 'round," the old cat purred. "Listen closely, and I'll tell you."

Meh, I thought. I didn't want to hear about the heroic deeds of some cat I didn't know. It's not like I could ever be a hero.

The Guardian, he said, came from nowhere. No one knew where she was from. It was as if she had arrived from the heavens, a gift from StarClan itself. She was the one who had saved the Clans from a dark evil known only as the Darklings.

"What was she like?" I asked, although I tried not to show that I was too interested.

She was black-furred, brown-eyed, Purdy rumbled. And she was the noblest warrior he had ever met. When she first came to the Clans, she was shy and quiet. She couldn't even look anyone in the eye. But she fought hard and she trained harder, and pretty soon, she rose through the ranks. That was when the Darklings first came. They came and tore the whole place apart, and after her heroic battle with the wretched fox Fang, she saved the Clans and helped it together again.

"You said she was shy?" I asked, wrinkling my brow.

"It certainly seemed that way to me. But she was more than that, ya know?" Purdy chuckled.

Shy. She sounded like someone I knew. Almost.

"You're telling her story wrong, Purdy," a voice said as a shadow stepped into the room.

I whirled around in surprise. Dewstep hovered over me, his amber eyes narrowed into slits. His face was an expression bordering between frustration and the calm before a storm. Geez, what a sourpuss. It seemed to me that he couldn't smile even if he tried.

Purdy dipped his head. "Wasn't expectin' you here, young 'un. What can ah do fer you?"

Dewstep replied, "You said that the Guardian was a noble warrior, braver than the bravest of lions and stronger than the mountains. But you're missing the point. You keep telling them what she did. But you don't tell them who she really was."

I began to bristle. Something about this tom set my nerves on edge, although I wasn't sure why. Why couldn't he just leave us alone?

"What do you mean by that?" I grumbled. "Purdy said that she was a savior of the Clans. What more is there to know?"

"No, youngster, keep yer fur on."

Purdy, instead of being angry, looked remarkably calm, as if it didn't matter how a story was told. "Tell us then, warrior," he purred, nodding to Dewstep. "You knew her the most."

The warrior swiveled his ears. Thoughts whirled behind his eyes. He flexed his shoulders and sat down, giving his chest fur a few licks.

"Alright, I'll tell you," he growled. "Shadefrost wasn't only brave and strong. She was a coward, too. And a bit of a scatter-brain."

Bristling, I opened my mouth to protest, but he shot me a sizzling glare.

Continuing, he meowed, "I didn't know what my brother was thinking when he toddled up to the stranger and told her his name. She could have been a rogue, or a murderer. I thought it foolish of Bramblestar to let her join ThunderClan. After all, what was she good for? She couldn't hunt. She couldn't pounce. Her fighting skills were as lousy as a shrew's. It didn't matter that my brother wanted to be friends with her. I didn't want her anywhere near me. So…" He broke off, staring into the distance, eyes unfocused, as if he were searching for something out of his reach. "So I taunted her and bullied her and thought her useless. Only a stroke of death made me realize that she was different. I was hanging off a cliff, realizing that I was going to die, and hoping that I would get to see my family one last time. Please, StarClan, I thought, I wanted to live. And all of a sudden, _she _came to my rescue. I thought StarClan had sent her to my aide. She was like, like…"

_An angel? _I thought, but I didn't say it out loud. I didn't want to get my ears clawed off.

"After that, we became friends. I realized why my brother would fall in love with a cat like her. I recognized what he saw in her. He believed in her, and so did I. Even when we failed countless times and I thought she had left and abandoned us, she always came back. She always came back, no matter what happened, just to see us again."

Silverpaw asked quietly, "Where did she go?"

He paused, mouth slightly open, searching for an answer he didn't know. He stopped for a minute, his eyes glassy and blank. Then he shook his head slowly, solemnly. "She went home. She left without a second glance back."

I glared at him. I wanted to yell, _You mouse-brain! You should've chased after her! You should've gone with her! And now look what happened! She left you behind in the dust._

Dewstep went silent, and his eyes grew dull and sad. For a second, I pitied him. I knew what it felt like to be left behind.

Silverpaw gave him a small, timid smile. "But she left us the Tree of Promise. You can always go up to the Moonpool and see it."

All of a sudden, he spun around and bared his teeth, snarling like a mad animal. Silverpaw yelped in surprise and dove behind me, where she trembled like a leaf.

"Hey!" I growled, springing to her defense. "Leave her alone!"

His face was contorted into an angry snarl, but then, as if he had snapped out of a trance, he stopped himself. His face turned back to normal. Hiding his eyes, he backed out of his den, muttered a small apology, and left.

"What's his problem?" I growled as I watched him stalk away.

Purdy was oddly quiet. He had curled up into a soft, crumpled ball in the corner. His ear twitched, and he suddenly rasped, "I've heard some from the medicine cat. He says the Tree is dying."

Silverpaw's blue eyes grew wide as she leaped to her paws. She gasped in disbelief, "But how? Why? Jayfeather said that? But you know that's not true. The Tree is special. It can't just die."

The elder scuffled his paws for a few heartbeats. When he looked up, his eyes had grown warm again. He gave a rusty mew. "Now, now, youngster, it's alright. I don't know fer sure if that's what he really said. It's getting late. Ya'll should be settlin' down now."

OooOoOooooooooooooOOooOOoOOOOoooOoOoO

We padded back to the den side-by-side. The clearing was empty and washed with moonlight. Stardust glittered on the tops of the trees.

"What's so special about the Tree of Promise?" I asked. "It's just a tree, isn't it?"

She shook her head. "No, it's not just an ordinary tree. The Guardian gave it to us."

"Huh." I was still skeptical, but was too tired to argue.

I plopped down on the moss and curled up. It crinkled like dry paper. I suddenly wished for my comfy bed back at home.

Something in the den shifted and scuffled forward, and a pair of amber eyes hovered in front of me like two ghosts.

I sighed. "Mm tired," I grumbled, shoving my face down between my paws. "G'night."

Scorchpaw grinned. His eyes lowered mischievously, as if he was planning to do something very, very wicked.

"What?" I muttered.

He prodded Silverpaw with his tail. "You know what happens on the night of the crescent moon."

Silverpaw answered his smirk with a snarky grin of her own. Unlike me, she didn't seem tired at all. Where did she get so much energy?

"Sometimes," she mewed in a hoarse whisper, making her voice as low as possible. "We tell ghost stories."

I stretched my mouth wide into a laugh. "_Ghost _stories?" I meowed in disbelief. "Is that what this is about?"

"Hush up!" Scorchpaw hissed. "You'll wake the warriors. Remember, we're supposed to be asleep right now. We're not allowed to stay up too late."

"Yeah, yeah." I waved my paw and turned over onto my side, facing the wall.

The two fell silent. I could feel their disappointment and pouts seeping over me like waves.

I hoped that they would give up and go back to sleep, but Scorchpaw started up again. His voice was a low whisper, like the moan of the wind through the willows. "Once upon a time, when the world was still new and the first kits were being born, a great war was fought between two of the neighboring Clans. The reason for the War had long been forgotten by everyone, even by StarClan itself, but the echoes of claws and screams and the moans of the dying still seep into the clearing in cold nights like this." The den was warm and full, but out there, in the outside world, it was so silent that I could hear the _tap, tap, tapp_ing of a stray branch against the roof. A lone breeze trailed its fingers over the slumbering camp. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore it, but Silverpaw's hushed voice was more insistent. I could see her blue eyes glowing like shadowy orbs in the darkness.

"It was a mighty War. Many were slain and felled like mice from a hawk. The ground was painted red. The Lake was filled with blood instead of water."

I huffed. Was this really supposed to be scary?

"Legend has it, that a cat had caused this Great War. His name was shunned by everyone for fear that it would bring curses and bad luck to the woodlands, but he still exists. He was the cat that had done something so evil, so wicked and treacherous, so awful, that he shattered the warrior code itself. His deed shook the earth to the core. When he fell from the Great War, StarClan turned its back on him and shut him out. He pleaded with them and begged them to let him in, but his cries fell on deaf ears. He then turned and fled over to the Place of No Stars, but even the most dark-hearted rogues there refused to admit him. The cat was so sinful that even the Dark Forest cats were petrified of him."

The wind whirled and groaned like one of the dying.

"So the cat had no choice but to linger on the earth with nowhere to go, with no stars to guide him and no souls to carry him. He was doomed to stay between both worlds for all eternity. Even to this day, his ghost still wanders the forest, searching for victims."

Behind my eyes, I saw a black shape trudging through the trees. The leaves stirred underneath his musty claws. His narrowed eyes glinted in the moonlight. His fur reeked of dust and of years long gone. I saw him raise his nose to the air, scenting it, turning toward ThunderClan. I saw him quicken his pace and hurry toward it.

"He is the lost wanderer of the earth. The cat with a heart so black that the warrior code shudders at his memory. The one cat that StarClan forgot. The cat more terrible than Tigerstar or Scourge or even the long-gone Darklings. He has no mercy. No kindness or compassion. A heart of ice and terror. Who knows, if you might run across him one day and—"

"I get it!" I spat. The two huffed and grumbled, and then settled back down onto the moss.

I sighed. I really should stop yelling. These cats were nice, I told myself. I should be nicer.

As sleep quickly descended upon me, I wrapped my tail around my nose and breathed in the dusty smell of moss. My thoughts lingered over the things that had happened in the past few days.

I almost thought about my home, but quickly steered myself away from it.

The ghost, I thought sleepily, settling into a deep sleep. What did he do that was so bad?

In the silence of the night, I thought I heard the soft tapping of the claws on the ground, felt the presence of someone I didn't know, and then I was asleep.


	7. Chapter 6-This Morning

CHAPTER 6-This Morning

The morning air hung heavily with the crisp scent of rain. It didn't smell like the grey, acid rain of cities. It was wild; it grew like the vines, uncontained, uncontrolled, twisting and churning and spiraling out of control. The ground got damp, awaiting its arrival. Dark clouds lolled and rumbled lazily overhead.

"You will be hunting in partners," Dewstep announced. "I expect each of you to bring back at least three pieces of prey."

I glanced around at the cats, perking up when I spotted Scorchpaw nearby. But Silverpaw bounded toward him, mewing something into his ear, and he nodded. They stood side-by-side as partners, waiting for the hunt to start; Dewstep acknowledged them with a nod.

My eyes lowered as I looked away. That left only Wolfpaw and Featherpaw to choose from.

Wolfpaw, the dark grey she-cat, stretched luxuriously and parted her jaws to drink in the scent of the oncoming rain. I envied her; she had a way of looking thin and petite even though her muscles flexed through her limbs, and there was something liquid about her, like she could stretch and contort and fit through the narrowest of spaces.

She waved the mentor over with her tail and whispered something quietly into his ear. After a pause, he nodded, and we both watched as she leaped nimbly to her paws and raced away to the damp undergrowth.

I growled in annoyance. "How come _she _can hunt alone?"

Without glancing at me, Dewstep replied, "She is far more experienced and well-trained than you. She can manage just fine without a partner."

I opened my mouth to protest again, but clenched it shut, sulking, when I realized that he was right.

That left only Featherpaw. She was sitting on her haunches, alone with her eyes half-closed and her nose buried into the white fur of her chest, as if she was asleep but not asleep, daydreaming.

She shot her head up with surprise when I began to pad toward her. I gave her an awkward nod, and she settled back down again.

"Alright then," Dewstep meowed. "If no one has any questions, we will begin. Remember the ShadowClan and WindClan borders, and make sure you don't cross them."

I raised my tail. He sighed and asked, "What is it now, Stormpaw?"

Keeping my voice as low as possible so she didn't hear, I whispered, "Can't I hunt by myself? I don't need a partner."

He was silent for a moment. I thought I saw a flash of anger in his yellow and cracked eyes, but then he straightened himself up. His voice was hard and stern when he spoke, like stone.

"Stormpaw. There is a difference between the life of a loner and the life of a Clan cat. As a Clan, we fight together. We eat together and hunt together and do everything together. It is our duty to be the best we can be and to protect the ones we love most."

I furrowed my brow, obviously not understanding. What did being a warrior have to do with having a partner?

Sensing my confusion, he leaned back and sighed in exasperation. He muttered, "Honestly, at least Shadefrost wasn't as annoying as..."

He thought I couldn't hear, but I did.

The tom heaved himself to his paws, and without glancing back, he mewed, "You're still young, Stormpaw. You'll understand when you're older."

The others had already left. Pretty soon, Featherpaw and I were the only ones who were in the clearing.

She was licking her paw, as if she didn't really care if we hunted or not. I was pretty content to just stay here myself, but I didn't want to face Dewstep's wrath.

I waved my tail awkwardly, trying to catch her attention.

"So, um...let's start?" I stammered.

To my relief, instead of ignoring me, the freckled she-cat nodded and stood up.

I glanced around uncertainly. Wild brush hung all around us. The leaves and ferns bobbed up and down with the wind, silent except for a faint shushing noise.

I asked, "So...uh, where do you want to go?"

She blinked at me slowly with a bored expression on her face. I cursed at myself inwardly. How did I get myself into this mess? I was stuck with a cat who couldn't speak, and I wasn't even sure if she understood what I was saying. Should I just leave her behind?

I tried again. "Should we start at the Sky Oak?"

Featherpaw's ear twitched and she shook her head slightly. Her tail waved and quivered in the air.

"What's that?" I asked.

She waved it more insistently. It bobbed up and down with the wind, like the light reeds on the Lake. Her brow furrowed. She looked frustrated. I didn't know what she was trying to tell me.

Something in my mind clicked suddenly, like a light bulb switching on. I perked up hopefully. "You wanna go hunt near the Lake?"

Her green eyes softened and she looked relieved. She nodded.

I lifted my paw, ready to go, when I realized that the cat hadn't moved yet.

I gazed at her questioningly, my head tipped to one side in confusion.

"What is it now?" At this rate, we would get nowhere.

She jumped to her paws and scurried in a circle around me, before dashing a few sprints forward and then walking back again. It looked almost comical, but I didn't laugh. I was curious to learn more about her strange sort of "language".

With a startled jolt, I realized that she was glaring at me, urging me to answer her. I stuttered, "Uh, ah...you want to catch squirrels?"

She sighed through her nose. Frustrated.

Well, too bad for you, I thought miserably. I had no idea what she wanted me to do.

Once again, with a forced patience, Featherpaw tapped my shoulder with her tail, telling me to pay attention. She circled me again, repeating the whole thing over. I noticed that she ran rather than walked. She sprinted a few paces ahead and disappeared in the undergrowth. The leaves quivered in her wake, before she dashed back again and blinked at me expectantly, panting slightly.

I tipped my head to one side. Running, not walking. She wanted to run to the Lake. But why would she want to tell me? She could just go ahead and do what she wanted.

Or...she wanted to race.

My lips cracked into a small smile. So Featherpaw did have a certain playfulness to her after all.

Her green eyes lit up. She leaped on the tips of her toes, barely concealing her excitement.

I called, "Get ready, get set, go!"

She shot off like a bullet. I gave her a bit of a head start, but then kicked up my heels and we were running together, side-by-side. The wind whistled in my ears, bringing the promise of summer rain. It blasted me full in the face and combed its fingers through my tortoiseshell fur.

I didn't want to laugh, but it bubbled out of me like a stream. I laughed along with the wind, without any reason or purpose, laughing just for the feel of laughing.

When I glanced over at Featherpaw, her eyes were shining. If she was able to make a sound, I was sure that she would laugh too.

OoOooOoOOoOoOooOooOOOoOOOoOoOOooOo

Featherpaw had a reason to want to hunt on the banks of the Lake, I soon realized. It was teeming with frogs and crickets and waterbirds, and if we were lucky, we could dab at the minnows that swam in the shallow part of the water.

She could hunt much better than I could, much to my dismay. She had already snagged two little toads, and I saw her bring down a sparrow flying in midair.

I wilted inwardly. It didn't seem fair that a cat like her could hunt and I couldn't.

Featherpaw wanted to teach me; I knew because of the motions she made.

She showed me her unsheathed claws, making sure that I saw them. Then she crouched down with much more dramatic movements, and crept forward slowly, as if she was stalking an invisible mouse. She waved to me with her tail, ordering me to copy her.

I didn't.

"I know how to hunt," I told her as kindly as possible. It's just that the prey didn't seem so willing to cooperate.

She fluffed out her fur indignantly and her eyes flashed. The cat tapped me on my nose with her tail. I flinched.

I growled, "Stop that."

She shook her head and waved her tail again in frustration. I could almost hear her growling like me, although of course she couldn't.

"I don't need you to show me how to hunt," I said again. Out of the corner of my eye, a brown shape hopped along among the long stalks of grass. The long ears twitched, and it sauntered away.

Wanting to prove it to her, I called, "Wait here," and bolted after the rabbit.

I was on its trail in an instant. It shot its head up in surprise, its dark eyes wide when it saw me approaching it with an eager gleam in my intent gaze. I let out a shout when it zigzagged and dashed into the forest.

With adrenaline blazing through my veins, I leaped and bounded after my target, with limbs as strong and graceful as a lion's. The rabbit, no matter how hard it skimmed over the ground, found that it could not throw me off.

"You're mine!" I yowled in victory when I was in its reach.

Suddenly, without warning, the pesky thing halted in its tracks, sending a cloud of dust blooming over its furry head.

I was running too fast to skid to a halt. With a cry, the ground flew up from underneath me, and I tumbled head over heels, past my target, and rolled over and over into the thicket of thorny brambles.

Spitting out a mouthful of grass, I glared at the rabbit that poked its head up to look at me.

I spat, "You wait! I'll rip your fur off!"

It cocked its head to one side. I almost saw a glint of amusement in its dark hazel eyes.

"My, my," it suddenly said. "Are all cats that violent?"

I froze. For a few heartbeats, the only thing I could hear was my breath coming in gasps from the short run.

I blinked. "Did you just talk?"

The rabbit licked its tiny paw and began to groom itself. "Talk?" he mused. "You mean the thing that I'm doing right now? 'Course I am, if this is what you call talking. Cats ask such repetitive questions."

I felt myself bristle. I struggled to stand up, but the brambles snagged onto my fur with a tight hold like fingers. It yanked me back down, and the only thing I could do was shoot him a death glare.

"How can you talk?" I hissed. "You're a rabbit."

"Amazing, ain't it? Once in a while the upper predators in the food chain should realize that they're not the only ones with priorities."

"I'm not hallucinating, then?" He looked real enough.

"I'm pretty sure that I exist. Long ears. Fluffy tail. Whiskers and limbs. Yep, pretty sure."

Alright. So I wasn't hallucinating. A rabbit that could talk. And one with a pretty smart mouth. Just wait until I got my claws on him...

"You know," he said suddenly, his whiskers twitching. His large, bulging dark eyes almost made him look intelligent. "I suppose I _could _help you out of those brambles. Rodents have nice teeth for gnawing through stems. The thorns won't bother me much."

I gave him a thoughtful look. "So what are you waiting for? Let me out then. I promise that if you do, I'll spare your life," although I was lying through my teeth. I planned to catch him as soon as I could.

He seemed to know. "Hm," he said, crouching down and tucking his paws underneath his furry tan body. "Leaving so soon? I'd like to have a nice chat before you go. It's been quite a long time since I last talked to anybody besides myself."

I sighed in annoyance. I struggled weakly. Featherpaw must be wondering what was taking me so long.

"Patience, cat," the stupid rabbit chuckled. "I just need a few of your words."

He straightened up with pride. "My name," he announced," is Atlas."

"That's very, very nice," I replied, my tongue dripping with sarcasm. "Maybe you'll want to tell me how old you are, or how many brothers and sisters you have. Or maybe the name of the bush you grew up in. Or maybe you can tell me when I actually _care_." To my dismay, he didn't look offended at all. He had a dumb grin on his face.

I wanted to smack it off. "Do all rabbits have weird names like yours?"

"I would ask the same of you. Do all cats have such queer names like yours? Hold on, though. I actually don't know your name. You're actually the first cat I've ever talked to. So, then. May I inquire your name?"

"You really like hearing yourself talk," I growled. I paused for a minute, thinking. "I guess you can call me Stormpaw."

"See? 'Stormpaw' isn't very different from 'Atlas'. Both very queer words. After all, how can you have a storm in your paw? Can you tell me that, cat?"

"I _can, _after you let me out of this stupid _bush."_

"Alright then, I suppose I'll have to apologize. I've kept you here long enough. You ought to be going back to your friends and family, wherever they are."

He leaned closer and squinted.

After a long pause, he spoke. "You're not really a cat, are you? Not really."

My ears perked up in shock. I squinted back at him. "How...do you know?" I whispered. I wasn't a human anymore. Wasn't I?

The rabbit answered, "Certain small rodents like me can sense such things, Stormpaw." He added quietly, "And I can sense your past. It's like, like a shadow lingering behind you. Part of you wants to forget, but the other half doesn't want to."

I grew silent. I couldn't get him to leave, and I couldn't block out his words. Stupid old rabbit.

His long ears twitched and perked up. "Your friend is near," he said quickly. "It's best that I leave."

He hopped a few paces, before turning back and saying, "And Stormpaw, I can also sense great things coming up ahead for you. Great things. Astounding things. Marvelous things. Things from your wildest dreams." He stood up on his hind legs, and if a rabbit could wink, he would have done it. "Good things are in store for you. I can tell that this won't be the last time we'll meet," and he bounded away out of view.

Featherpaw trudged up the hill right as he left. She scowled at me, her ears angled against her head so that she looked furious.

I wanted to tell her about the talking rabbit, but decided that right now wasn't the good time. I grinned up at her sheepishly. "Yeah, sorry about the super long wait. So, you wanna help me out of these brambles?"

oOoOoOooooooooooooOOooOoOoOoOOooooOooO

It began to rain when we entered the camp. Silverpaw and Scorchpaw were already there, resting underneath a tree. The fresh-kill pile was stocked with the prey they had caught.

I could barely conceal a gasp of shock when Wolfpaw dragged in practically a cartload of hawks and mice. I thought I spotted a dead snake thrown in there too.

Dewstep smiled and nodded at her. His gaze hardened when Featherpaw and I approached.

I had two shrews dangling in my jaws. I felt my cheeks burn in embarrassment when I realized how small they were compared to everyone else's.

However, to my surprise, Dewstep sniffed the prey and nodded. "Good, I guess. Get some rest. The Gathering is tonight."

He congratulated me, although 'good' was hardly a word of praise. But it was enough, I guess.

The rain fell harder. It pounded against the ground in cold needles that seeped deep into my fur and left me shivering. I bounded over to the apprentices underneath the shelter of the large branches.

Featherpaw trailed after me, and we both looked up when a she-cat's frantic cry brought us to attention.

It was Ivypool. "Featherpaw!" She called, beckoning with her tail urgently. "Come inside the den! You'll catch a cold out here."

Featherpaw's shoulders sagged and she heaved a small sigh.

She blinked at me, a sign that could mean anything, and she slowly sauntered over to the queen. I watched as she padded into the den and darkness swallowed her whole.

"Poor Featherpaw," Silverpaw whispered. "I can't believe how hard it is for her. Imagine living without a voice. No one'll know what you want."

For some reason, I felt that Featherpaw wouldn't like it if she heard what Silverpaw said. The back of my neck prickled for her sake.

Wolfpaw was curled up in a sleek ball with the small silver cat lounging next to her. Sisters, I remembered.

Wolfpaw smiled at me. "I thought you did well today, Stormpaw," she purred. "Not bad, since you've only been in the Clan for a week."

I smiled back. "Yeah," I sighed. "Not as good as you, though."

Scorchpaw flicked my nose with his tail. His russet and white pelt stood out brightly against the grey fog of the downpour. "Don't kid yourself," he mewed sleepily. "You're a good hunter."

I wanted to say, _No, you're just saying that. I could hardly catch a mouse. _But I was too tired, and I curled up to doze off for a bit.

Soft pawsteps approached us quickly, and I cracked open an eye to see Squirrelflight looming over us. She had a worried look on her face.

"Have you seen Grasstail and Moleclaw? No one's spotted them since yesterday night."

"I'm sure they're just frolicking away somewhere," Wolfpaw assured her. "They'll be back in time for the Gathering."

Squirrelflight relaxed visibly. "Yes," she murmured, "Yes, I suppose you're right. But in the meantime, keep an eye out for them."

Scorchpaw nodded firmly. "We will."

As we watched the deputy trot away, Silverpaw whispered. "Maybe the Ghost Cat got them."

"Ghost cat?" I asked. "You mean the one from the Great War?"

Wolfpaw shook her head slightly. "I don't think he's real."

Her sister unsheathed her claws and batted them at an imaginary foe. "The Ghost Cat hunts down his prey because he can smell the scent of their blood. He stalks them, and when the time is right...BAM!" She pounced on Wolfpaw's flickering tail. "Grasstail will scream if anything like that happens to her," Silverpaw chuckled. "She's always afraid of everything."

She giggled and mewed, "Imagine if the Ghost Cat really did get her. I can almost see the look on her face."

But no one laughed. Scorchpaw batted her shoulder with his tail, telling her to quiet down. Apparently, no one was supposed to talk about the Ghost Cat. He wasn't supposed to be remembered.

OoOoooOOoOOOoOooOooOoooooooooooooooOOO

"Ugh. If I knew the island was this crowded, I wouldn't have come," I mewed to Scorchpaw. We were jostled from every side by cats of every Clan. My sharp cat nose could pick up all the details from their scent.

The other apprentices were with me, although it was hard not to get lost. Even Featherpaw had managed to wiggle away from the clutches of her mother. Ivypool must be running around frantically, calling for her daughter at the top of her voice.

"You're mother will be worried about you," Scorchpaw told her, voicing my thoughts. He had to yell to be heard above the crowd.

Featherpaw snickered and shook her head. Good for her. Ivypool needed to learn not to stick so close to her pelt every waking second of the day.

"Shhh, it's starting," Silverpaw whispered eagerly. I stared up at the four leaders seated on the branches of the pine trees. A flicker of excitement bubbled up inside me.

This was my first Gathering!

Rowanstar meowed in a loud, deep voice, "I will start. The prey is running smoothly in ShadowClan. The rains have brought plentiful frogs, and our queens are thriving. We even have new warriors: Sparrowflight, Dewmist, and Mistcloud."

The crowd automatically chanted, "Sparrowflight! Dewmist! Mistcloud!" while the ShadowClan warriors looked on in pride.

As the noise quieted down, Rowanstar dipped his head to Bramblestar.

I admired my own leader, at how large and strong he seemed compared to the other leaders.

ThunderClan was the best Clan, I realized. I was grateful to be a part of it, and not some scrawny WindClan apprentice or a mangy ShadowClan cat.

Bramblestar announced, "My Clan is thriving as well. The apprentices are training as hard as they can, and the Greenleaf prey is plump. We also have a new member: Stormpaw."

"Stormpaw! Stormpaw! Stormpaw!"

My friends cheered the loudest. I ducked my head from all the attention I was getting, but still, I swelled with pride.

Onestar stepped forward, and the look on his face immediatley brought the crowd down to a hush.

His voice was grave. "I have some news to share. A litter of kits have gone missing for two sunrises, and they haven't been seen since. Even two of our elders have mysteriously vanished. If any of you have seen any sign of them, I would like you to tell me as soon as possible. Other than that, WindClan is thriving."

"WindClan as well?" Wolfpaw whispered. Her brow was furrowed with a mix of question and anxiety.

I saw Bramblestar perk up with sudden interest. "Two of our warriors have also disappeared from my Clan. I'm not too concerned for them, since they're strong enough to take care of themselves, but I was sure that they would turn up for the Gathering. But they're not here. It seems pretty strange, doesn't it, Onestar?"

Mistystar murmured quietly, "Strange indeed. My senior apprentice was not in sight this morning, but he had been on guard patrol the night before. It seems that he has vanished into thin air. What if all the disappearances are connected somehow?"

Woah. This was getting interesting.

Someone from the crowd called out, "What about ShadowClan?"

We all turned to Rowanstar.

"Are any of your cats missing?" Mistystar asked.

Rowanstar glared at them in annoyance. "Of course not. My cats would never think of running away and abandoning their duties. And don't even think of accusing me for kidnapping them. I have nothing to do with this."

"No cat's accusing you," Bramblestar assured him. "But it does seem weird that cats are missing from every Clan except yours."

The ShadowClan cats began to yowl in protest.

"What do you think?" Scorchpaw murmured among all the racket. "Where did Moleclaw and Grasstail go?" He glanced at Silverpaw. "And don't even think about bringing up the Ghost Cat because right now, I'm serious."

"They could be in danger," I meowed. But my nerves were tingling with excitement.

Suddenly, in the midst of the cool, fresh night air, a scream pierced the island. The scream of a cat.

It jolted me to my feet and sent my tail bristling like quills. Featherpaw's green eyes were wide with fright, although she tried not to show it, and Wolfpaw had wrapped her tail protectively around her sister.

"Who was that?" I yowled in surprise. The crowd grew deathly silent as they glanced at one another in fear and confusion.

The leaders leaped steadily down from the branches, and the crowd parted to let them through.

"Is anyone hurt?" Mistystar asked worriedly. No cat answered her.

We followed, quiet and bristling, as we slowly neared the tree bridge.

"All of you, keep close to me," Scorchpaw whispered urgently. "The scream sounded nearby." I gulped and nodded, letting him take the lead.

The full moon glowed silently among the clouds. Its yellow reflection rippled on top of the water. Nothing seemed out of place at all, in the dark landscape of the night realm.

A gasp ran through the mass in unison. A few cries rang through the air.

Silverpaw's eyes grew wide. "What? What is it?"

"Stay back," Scorchpaw ordered, but we all ignored him and surged foward. The whole crowd of cats peered around the leaders, trying to see what was happening.

I squeezed through the gaps and stared in shock at the scene in front of me, barely believing what I saw.

It was Moleclaw.

He was sprawled out on the tree bridge, the tips of his paws touching the lapping black water, as if he was desperatley trying to escape from something and had all of a sudden collapsed.

His neck was torn open. Blood seeped down and mingled with the icy Lake water like a red streak. His eyes were impossibly wide, and with a start, I realized that he was still alive. His sides heaved as he fought for breath.

"Moleclaw?"

Bramblestar's voice was soft and hushed, like a queen murmuring to her kit. "Moleclaw, what happened?"

The dying cat gave no sign that he heard. His jaws were parted as he struggled to breath. The slick, wet gash on his neck glittered in the light of the moon.

"Someone get the medicine cat!" Rowanstar ordered in a harsh command.

The cats dipped their heads in sorrow. "No use. He is already slipping away into StarClan." At this, the crowd murmured and rose to a sad wail.

Bramblestar's voice was more urgent now. He crouched down in front of the tom.

"Moleclaw," he mewed softly. "Moleclaw, tell me who you were running from. I promise, your death will be avenged."

The tom stirred and stretched his mouth back to speak. A gurgle came out, followed by a stream of scarlet.

His eyes grew dull, and with a shudder, his flanks stopped heaving and he lay there, silent and unmoving.

I took a step back, my heart reaching out to the dead cat. I had watched him die. His eyes were still wide open with fear, but they saw nothing.

I lowered my head, along with everyone else, and felt the sadness stir the night air.

Wolfpaw whispered, "Moleclaw."

I didn't know who he was. The only thing about him that I really knew was that he was a Clanmate. But still, I closed my eyes and dipped my head, knowing that I should show some respect.

Bramblestar heaved himself to his paws and stared down at the crumpled cat lying there. The leader turned and surveyed the crowd that was mourning for his loss.

His amber eyes narrowed, and all of a sudden, he had turned into a vicious ruler, a cat with vengeance in his veins and with a will to seek revenge.

"I will find out who did this to my Clan," he rumbled dangerously. "And I will chase him to the end of the earth if I have to. Whoever was foolish enough to do this to one of my cats will pay dearly."

And no cat doubted his words.


	8. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

The wind was raging and howling like a tornado outside, tearing up the eaves and making the chimney rattle in its sleep, but inside, it was safe. The yellow light from the fireplace wafted and melted into the furniture like soft butter. The wood sifted as the fire gnawed on its bones, and sparks flew and scattered like a handful of fireflies. A crackling sound of crumpled paper emitted from the orange flames as the wood simmered in the heat.

I never liked reading, but this time, I had an opened book of poetry poured out on my lap. It lay there, softly stirring its wings, slumbering away in its deep dreamland. I didn't care to glance down at the words, but somehow, I knew that it was the one that I always kept up on my shelf, the threadbare red one with the faded gilded letters on the title. Dog-eared pages. Paper that browned on the edges, as if it had gotten a nice peppering of cinnamon. Typewriter text that sometimes faded and appeared a few sentences later.

This wasn't my house, but I wish it was. It had a certain silence to it that I had always yearned for. Quiet. Asleep. Peace.

There was someone standing behind me. A cat, a pale soft grey one, with fur the color of the sidewalk after a morning shower, the color of a ghost fog, of mist, of sea breezes. The color of dreams. Her blue eyes were as round and bright as two shiny pearl marbles, of the same hues that were found at the bottom of unfathomably deep pools. They glowed with a gentle light. The fireplace flickered in their depths, the smooth, melting orange licking at the unpenetrable blue as they fought their silent battle.

She shimmered with each step she took, as if she was made out of nothing but clouds and stardust, as if those paws were light enough to walk on moonlight. When she breathed, the house exhaled, and every time she blinked, the curtains stirred softly with her. I wondered if this dream was her making. I wondered if everything in this dream was from her: the house, the fire, the rain outside, the ticking of the weathered clock on this mantelpiece. They seemed to be connected.

I licked my dry lips. "What is this place?" I asked her, although I was certain that I knew. I had been here before, once upon a time.

"Where you've always wanted to be, dear," she replied as she curled her tail contently around her transparent paws. Her eyes were half-closed.

The voice was a perpetual memory. Like birds twittering on a warm summer morning, or daisies bobbing in the breeze.

I shifted on the chair I was sitting on. The rain tapped on the glass. _Tap, tap, tap, _as persistent as the everlasting ticking of the clock.

That clock, I wondered. How long has it been running? Just recently? Or has it been working since the beginning of time itself, those two tiny needles of arms, running slowly, second by second, minute by minute, hour by hour, ticking away the years, unfolding time, sitting patiently on the mantelpiece like some age-old relic, gathering dust, seated there for centuries or milleniums, never ceasing, just keeping up the same steady, steady pace?

It seemed to me that the ticking would match the cat's heartbeat perfectly. The cat and the house were one and the same. I was in her dream, dreaming of her.

This house wasn't for me. It was much too warm, too comfortable. Why should I be here? This was an untainted room, like an unborn creature, unblackened by the secrets of the cruel world outside and still pure and white and untouched. Like a pearl, still concealed from the prying, greedy eyes of strangers and protected by the covering of its ridged shell. I felt like an intruder.

"I don't belong here," I told her. "Not me. Isn't this house for someone else?"

"No, child," she whispered. "I made this dream for you, and only you."

She arched her back and stretched. The walls breathed out of the pores in the cracks.

My stomach fluttered. "Who are you?" I asked.

"My name won't mean anything, at least not right away. But I have something to tell you. Something important."

The warmth was making me drowsy. She leaped onto my lap, stirring the pages.

"You've got a glorious future in front of you."

I snorted. As if.

Her gaze hardened into stone. "It's true. You are meant to be great. You will become so much more than you are now. Trust me."

"I'm not important," I mumbled.

The gales outside grew louder.

She waved her tail slightly, but became silent. Her eyes had drifted off into a dream-like state.

"I was the one who led you here, you know," she mewed at last. "I know your past. I know your future. But..." Her face flickered uneasily with some untold shadow. The eyes grew a bit dimmer. "...I need your help."

I huffed impatiently and shifted my legs so that she leaped out of my lap. "Then ask someone else. I'm just a girl. What do you expect me to do?"

"You will do things unimaginable, beyond the border of your most impossible dreams," she meowed. I jumped a little, for behind those words I heard another voice talking with her.

All of a sudden, the cat looked so old, so unimaginably old. But not withered or bent like a half-broken stalk. She was ancient. She had probably seen the world when it was only a tiny asteroid, watched it collide and morph and spin into a globe. She had watched the whole universe fold in front of her, in the beginning of time, in the beginning of everything. After all, she had put the clock there herself. Her heart ticked along with it.

"Stormpaw," she rumbled. Her voice was strong, not at all as delicate as before, as if she had some cavernous beast rising up from her chest and taking control of her tongue. The voice was powerful and thundering. It spoke of things long gone and things still yet to come. I couldn't do anything but stare and listen with awe.

She lifted her tail, and without warning, the room had disappeared. It left me floating in a black void.

Scenes flashed past me. I saw my mother, my father, standing hand in hand and smiling. It was a foreign sight to me. I wrinkled my brow, studying it.

The smiles lit up their faces with a golden light. Fair hair, loose, draped clothing fluttering in the wind like silk, captured in a quick half-second like a photograph. They looked genuinly happy. Peaceful, and glad that they were together.

Why weren't they like that back at home? Why couldn't I be there too, my hands clasped around their's, laughing along with them, standing together like a family without needing any reason to stand together, laughing just for the sake of it?

The scene disappeared and was replaced by a picture of me. It was the face I saw in the mirror, thin and sharp with cheekbones framed in curled russet hair. Dark brown eyes, hollow and unemotional. This was me.

I stab of sorrow wrenched my heart, followed by a flash of annoyance. The cat didn't know me. She didn't know that I was only Samantha Piper, a girl who was still afraid of the dark and the own monster swimming in my head.

The scene disappeared too, and was replaced by something so horrible, so dreadful, so blackened and despairing that I immediatley shied away and covered my head with my arms as if I had been struck. It was hurled at me with sheer force. It shattered my chest so I couldn't breathe. It wrenched my innards and squeezed them with unforgiving fists.

I remembered that scene, remembered it like a rotton piece of food sitting at the bottom of the trash bin. I wanted to forget it, to forget everything that happened that day. That day when-

From underneath my arms, I whimpered desperatley, "Please, take it away! I don't want to see it! I don't want-"

"Stormpaw."

That voice again. The voice of birdsong and memories. "It's alright. I'm here."

I cautiously opened my eyes again and found that we were back in the house. I was hunched over with my knees drawn to my chest and my arms wrapped around them, rocking back and forth. I heaved a sigh of relief, but it still lingered at the back of my mind. It still crushed my chest, just a little.

The cat was there too. She was standing at my feet with a look of concern stretched wide over her slim face.

I snarled at her. "You see now? Look at me! You know what I'm scared of. You know the thing that's riding on my back, the thing that I can't get rid of no matter how hard I try. You know what happened on that day. You know what I did. Now you know that...that I'm useless."

I whispered the last word. It hung heavily in the air.

The rain was pouring harder than ever. I was half-afraid that it would pound the walls to dust.

She placed a paw gingerly on my leg. "Oh, Stormpaw," she murmured. "I've already known everything about you from the first time I ever laid eyes on you. And even now, I don't regret choosing you. I don't ever repent my decisions."

I hissed softly, "And what do you want me for?"

"You'll find out as you go."

She stood up and bounded a few steps away. Her legs began to glow and grow faint. Pretty soon, she had become transparent. I could see right through her.

I clenched and unclenched my fists, realizing that I might not get to see her again after she left. After a while, I blurted out, "I don't even know you! Can't you at least tell me your name?"

She laughed quietly. "Oh, darling," she purred. She paused abruptly, and memories flickered behind the sky-blue eyes. She closed them and smiled. "You know...Shadefrost used to call me Moon."

With a blink of an eye, she had vanished, faded away, as if she had never been.

OoOOooOOoOOoOOoooooooooooooOOo

"Stormpaw. Hey, Stormpaw." A different voice.

Someone was nudging me harshly. I grumbled sleepily and turned away.

The probbing in my shoulder continued, sharper than before.

I growled, "What do you want? You'd better have a good reason for waking me up."

I rolled over and glared at Scorchpaw out of narrowed slits of my eyes. His dark emerald eyes glowed in the dark. He looked concerned.

"I heard something in the night," he whispered. "Somewhere outside of the camp, in the woods. It was close by. I need you to come with me to investigate."

I growled moodily and squeezed my eyes shut again. The only thing I wanted to do right now was sleep.

"Go by yourself, then," I muttered.

"Stormpaw," he meowed. His tone was strong and unwavering, but I thought I detected a hint of anxiety to it. He wouldn't want me to know that he was afraid. That was Scorchpaw, brave and powerful and able to chase full-grown WindClan warriors from the borders with his own claws.

And yet, he was afraid, even if only a little. What was there to be afraid of?

"It might be the murderer," he said again.

That got my attention. I remembered now. Moleclaw had been slaughtered only a few days ago, running desperatley away from his unknown killer before collapsing on the bridge. I shivered when I remembered his neck, torn and bloody and glittering wetly in the moonlight, and his sightless, soulless dead eyes.

If it was daylight, Scorchpaw would be willing to trek out by himself with no problem.

But the night was dark.

I heaved myself to my paws with a defeated sigh.

"What about the others?" I whispered, nodding to the rising and falling forms of my companions.

Silverpaw was sprawled out on her back with her legs splayed out everywhere. She snored softly. One of her hind paws was caught on Wolfpaw's ear, but the dark grey she-cat didn't seem to notice in her sleep. Featherpaw slumbered away in the far corner, her pale fur blanketed by shadows.

Scorchpaw replied, "We don't need to bring everyone with us. Two's enough. Come on." With a flick of his tail, he had bounded away. I quickly followed.

A gust of cold air instantly buffeted my face and I shrank back, longing for the warmth of the den.

Scorchpaw had already bounded away. His shadow was long and gangly and seemed to dance in the light of the bright moon. His legs looked like spindly sticks.

"Wait up!" I hissed. He halted and allowed me to catch up to him, and then we set off again.

A ginger cat, sillhouted by silver moonlight, was nodding off next to the entrance. Crap, Squirrelflight was in charge of keeping watch for the night. How were we going to get out?

Scorchpaw made a sharp turn and beckoned to me with his tail. We kept close to the walls and slinked by the shadows on quiet feet.

Another gust of wind blew and whirled.

There was a hole in the gorse tunnel, just big enough for a kit to slip through. He crouched down and clawed at it gingerly, trying not to prick himself on the thorns. After a while, I bent down to help.

The dry brown gorse snapped and crackled as we broke it apart, and we managed to make a ragged hole large enough for us to slip through one by one.

I went first. Flattening my ears as my fur caught harshly in the crooked thorns, I managed to wiggle and tear myself free, and turned to wait for Scorchpaw to climb out after me. Then we set out, just the two of us, toward the great yawning mass of the darkened forest.

Our paws crunched on the undergrowth. The moon rode the illuminated silver clouds and rolled lazily across the sky like a giant gobstopper. It shone down with a dry, cool light onto the treetops below, making the leaves glow a misty shade of blue.

The place looked so different at night. Everywhere I turned, the whole word seemed to be encased in a shimmering sheen of blue and white and ghostly grey. It was a world covered with a thin blanket of crystal. Nothing stirred except for our paws in the dewy grass. Our eyes lit the path in front of us.

We seemed so small, and the trees were so huge and looming and towering. Nature's skyscrapers, oaken fingers just barely touching the corners of the sky, with the great giant roots clamped down into the farthest reachings of the earth.

"It's so quiet," I whispered, and broke off when I realized how tiny my voice was, as if the cold night air stifled it and broke it apart to carry it away.

Scorchpaw nodded. "The woods are magical. It's vast and silent and completley enchanting."

Our pair of shadows skittered along with us with spidery limbs.

I asked, "What was the noise you heard?"

"Oh. It was somewhere here." He nosed the ground. "Just in the woods. You don't see anything suspicious, do you?"

"The noise could have been anything. A bird maybe, or you were dreaming it." I glowered at the thought that he had woken me up for nothing, but he ignored me.

I nudged him impatiently. "Come on. Let's go back."

"But you don't know how serious this is." He turned to face me with a hardened look in his gaze. I stood up to his icy glare and fought against it with my own lighter green eyes, answering his retort, the two of us staring each other down, my sharp, flint-chipped jade fixed to his own deep, darker emerald.

He repeated, "This is important, Stormpaw. The murderer could be here."

I shook my fur in exasperation. "Alright then, fine. If this was so important to make you leap out of bed and go running to the woods in this hour, then you might as well tell me what the noise sounded like."

His ears folded back. "Well...it was high-pitched and ear-splitting. Quick and shrill, as sharp as claws slicing into fur. I don't know how else to describe it. Is there a word for it?"

"Crickets," I mused with a bored expression.

"It sounded like a scream," he concluded, ignoring my remark. "An awful, hideous scream. But I can't scent anything unusual." He tipped his head back and parted his jaws to smell the air, as if to prove his point.

I opened my mouth to reply but quickly shut it again when a pungent aroma whirled into my face with the wind. It was a mingled scent of old bones and rickety and hazel and the wilderness, of sharp teeth and wild golden eyes and short, shaggy red fur...

I whirled around quickly. My claws dug into the ground and my fur bristled when I spotted a shadow lurking among the trees.

I hissed, "Fox! Scorchpaw, get behind me."

And for a glimmer, I thought I saw the beast somewhere before, when-

"Ember?" Scorchpaw's eyes were wide with disbelief. "And Dewstep? What are you doing here?"

The vixen leaped in front of us in a graceful, fluid motion that spoke of years spent climbing mountains and venturing into unforgiving terrain. Her lean muscles rippled underneath her bright scarlet pelt. Dewstep followed close behind. Under the shadow of the moon, he looked like a crude, battered coat of armor with one too many scars. His amber eyes glinted coldly when he saw us.

He meowed, "We're patrolling the forest. Who knows, the killer might still be wandering around these parts."

He eyed me warily, and I glowered.

"You two shouldn't be out this late," he said. "What are you up to?"

I flattened my ears and looked away. "Nothing important. We were just-"

"I heard a strange noise in the night," Scorchpaw interrupted. "Did you happen to notice anything queer?"

"Nothing in particular." This time, it was Ember who spoke up. Her voice was liquid and quiet and subtly haughty. She caught my eye and I jerked back. I couldn't resist flinging a hostile glare in her direction. I didn't trust that fox, not one little bit. Her face betrayed no emotion, but I thought I detected a faint hint of arrogance. How was it that she could smirk even through her voice?

Why couldn't they see that she was dangerous? I eyed her powerful muscles. She could kill a cat with a single flick of her teeth. Was every cat in ThunderClan blind?

The vixen continued coolly, "But we'll keep a look out in case we find anything that might lead to the killer." She smiled warmly, but I still imagined her as a deadly cobra just waiting for the perfect chance to strike. The serpent tongue flickered in her venom.

Dewstep sat back and sighed wearily. "The whole camp has been a complete mess after the death of Moleclaw," he meowed. "Everyone is anxious. The queens won't even allow their kits one paw step out of the nursery. The Clan is scared and nervous, and I don't blame them. After all, the murderer could be anyone."

His amber eyes glowed fiercely with a sudden intensity.

"It could even be right under our noses."

I stiffened as a thought flitted into my mind. Ember was exactly like a ticking bomb just waiting to attack at the right moment. She was out of place here, a fox among cats. And her cold, calculating dark eyes that always seemed to be saying unspeakable things...

She flicked her bushy tail and caught my gaze with her eyes narrowed into slits, as if challenging me. The moon and darkness shrouding her made her seem even more ominous.

My eyes widened when the fact struck me with brute force. I backed away nervously and gasped in surprise, "Ember! _You're _the murderer!" My legs were weak. Next to me, Scorchpaw's fur was on end and his ears were pricked sharply on top of his head. His gaze was wide with disbelief.

For a few haunting seconds, the world was utterly and completely silent, as if it had forgotten to breathe. Time itself grew still.

And then the quietness was shattered abruptly by Ember's soft, lilting laughter.

I grew red underneath my fur with embarrassment. Was she laughing at _me? _

I growled hotly, "Stop it. Why did you have to kill him?"

"She didn't do it, Stormpaw." Dewstep stated matter-of-factly. He sighed in exasperation, as if he were dealing with a naive kit, and it made me more embarrassed than ever.

I stammered, "O-oh yeah? Prove it."

The expression on his face was that of pure annoyance and utter irritation. "I was with her that night. We decided to skip the Gathering, since the other Clans aren't very fond of her. We fell asleep next to the Tree of Promise at the Moonpool, and we even exchanged a few words with Spottedblaze along the way. Go ahead and ask him if you don't believe us. You can also go up to the Moonpool right now and see our paw prints embedded in the mud, as clear as day."

I felt like a fool. Falsely accusing an innocent Clanmate? Who does that? And I didn't even bother to stop and think. Stupid, stupid, stupid, I scolded myself under my breath.

Scorchpaw rested his tail tip on my shoulder as if he were trying to comfort me.

Ember's sides heaved with surpressed laughter and she raised her head to blink at me with warm eyes.

"I knew you didn't like me from the start," she grinned. "But I didn't know you would go as far as to point _me_ out as the murderer. And you looked so sure of yourself when you did. Pity, but unfortunately, you are wrong. I did not kill Moleclaw."

Dewstep huffed out of his nose as he stood up to leave.

"Pathetic," he snorted. "A cat who leaps head first into situations and who doesn't think twice about accusing her own Clanmates. Bramblestar made a mistake in bringing you in. And he even expects _me _to mentor you. You've certainly got a lot of things to learn before you even begin training along with the others. You've got a head full of nothing but your own image."

His words struck me harder than thorns. I flattened my ears in shame and lowered my gaze.

Glaring at me out of the corners of his eyes, he turned and beckoned to Ember with his tail. Then, in a strong, swift movement, he bunched up his hind legs and sprung away into the depths of the trees, away from us.

Before she left, Ember crouched down and whispered sympathetically, "He's not a bad cat. His words are just a bit coarse, that's all, and he can be a bit harsh toward the feelings of others. But don't let him hinder you. I think you'll make a fine warrior yet." And then, with a whoosh of air and a spring of well-excercised muscles, she sped off after him with her tail streaming behind her like a red flash of fire.

I didn't move for a few heartbeats but only stared down dumbly at my paws.

Scorchpaw nudged me gently.

"Hey," he offered quietly. "Don't let yourself down. Come on, the others will be wondering where we are."

I allowed him to heave me to my paws and guide me back to the den. My steps were slow and heavy.

My own mentor didn't believe that I could ever be a warrior. So what was I supposed to become?

OoOOOOOOOOOOOOoooOOOOOOOOOOOOOoOOoO

They stood side-by-side on the hill overlooking the territory. A faint breeze stirred their fur as they awaited the dawn.

"That was a bit harsh, don't you think?" Ember murmured.

"I don't want to talk about it," came the gruff reply. He was lying sprawled out on the course, springy grass, his head resting against the ground, his back toward her.

Silence, except for the stirring of the grass brushing underfoot.

Ember padded a few steps toward him and plopped down next to the dark grey form. A boiling anger emanated from him like the throbbing of a festering wound.

The fox wiggled closer until their fur brushed. He didn't move.

She rolled onto her back and faced the wide, wide sky. The night was a curtain of velvety dark purple and black. The stars twinkled and danced up in the heavens, a hundred miles from the earth. She raised her paw toward them. It seemed that if she reached high enough, she might be able to catch one.

The feline body next to her didn't stir.

"You know, Dewstep," she said quietly. "Lark used to tell me so many stories of lore that were passed down from generation to generation. Ones about the great and mighty fox, Sunfire, and other such fairy tales."

No reply.

"But there are other stories too, that were passed down from fox to fox. You've already told me so many fables of StarClan and the ancient cats. Now, I will tell you what the foxes used to tell me."

Silence from the tom.

"Dewstep. I need you to listen~"

"Mmph."

"Once upon a time, so many ages ago, the world was still new and nothing walked upon it. It was only a barren, rocky ball of dirt carved out of mist that floated in the midst of nothingness, traveling downriver on the current to nowhere. But it wasn't empty. At least, not really. Two beings watched over it, always, and they made the barren earth their home. They ran their paws over it to smooth out the cracks, and they brushed their fur over it to gather up the mist. They rasped their tongues and minds and eyes over every little crack and crevice to make the tiny ball of dirt clean and round and pure."

She paused to listen. Dewstep's amber eyes glowed in the darkness. He was lying on his back, looking up at the brightly spinning stars.

Ember continued, "The two beings shaped the ball into something so much more. They weren't earthly creatures, in fact. Their eyes glowed with a shining light, so bright and yellow and golden, as if they had two suns instead of pupils. They had magnificent curved antlers perched on top of their slender heads, and limbs made out of the stuff of moondust. Their voices, when they spoke, were indestructable melodies. Their hearts were the core of the earth. The elder being made mountains out of pebbles and commanded the rains to create oceans and lakes and puddles. She pounded the mud into clay and sand and crafted dens out of them, and for the dens, she carved tiny animals. From out of her own heart, she took a tiny speck of light and formed it into the sun, and she placed it in the sky so that she could see her creations."

Dewstep shifted and listened.

"The younger being took pawfuls of dust and scattered them over the surface of the earth," the fox continued. "When they landed, grass sprouted, and where the grass sprouted, trees grew. Whole forests breathed and came into existence. The younger being also turned the elder's rain into snow and ice and covered half of the earth with it, to balance out the heat and the cold. Half of the animals who desired snow fled up to the northern part, and the rest who desired warmth stayed in the south. Then from out of his own skull, the younger placed a piece of glittering stone onto the sky, opposite the sun, to light up his own creations and called it the moon. And thus, a perfect world was made. Everyone was content. The creatures were glad and full and the earth was always just right. The two beings watched over it carefully and held it softly in their paws, protecting and guarding it. They loved the earth. They loved everything in it, from the wandering spider to the lonesome wolf. And the beings were happy."

"There's a 'but' in there,"Dewstep meowed. "I can feel it."

"They wanted to make their treasure even more beautiful. So they decided to put a piece of themselves into everything that lived. For every animal that walked, slithered, oozed, flew, or swam, the elder and the younger took a tiny chunk of themselves and placed it into each and every one of their souls. It's very tiny, less than a sliver of hair, but it's there. We carry a part of the beings in all of us."

"Now, everything was supposed to go on peacefully. Day after day, the sun rose and the moon fell, and the moon rose and the sun fell. The snow in the north was the same cold as the day it was created, and the warmth in the south was the same as well. The animals lived and breathed and trekked and gave birth and populated every corner. The ball of life swiveled and turned on its axis. But...the elder began to grow bored."

Dewstep retorted, "I knew it."

"The love she had for the earth began to dwindle. How could she love the same exact things without change, day after day, year after year, century upon century, for thousands of years, for eternity? She wanted something new and interesting. Something that wasn't there before. The elder wanted to destroy the earth, wipe it out of existence, and create a new ball of dirt to clean and purify and start over. The younger was terrified and shocked at the idea. How could they destroy something that they had created with their own paws? He thought especially of the animals. The creatures carried a tiny part of the beings in their souls. It was a part of them, and they were a part of each other. So, he declared, it wasn't right to just end it without a second thought. The elder and the younger had two very opposing views, and they argued to and fro, but neither one of them backed down. While they fought, the elder's sun flared and burned so hot that it melted some of the snow and ice in the north. The younger's moon began to grow thinner and thinner each night, so that it transformed from a fat, round white sphere into just a thin curved sickle in the sky. The animals were frightened. The trees and grass dried up from the burning of the sun's wrath, and the north winds howled and stripped flesh to the bone with the cold moon's rage. The anger gave birth to storms and hail and terrible weather. Because the beings were constantly fighting without rest, the earth was neglected. The oceans churned and frothed mightily. The skies grew dark and grim. Lightning flashed and set the forests on fire; rivers spilled their banks and flooded deserts. One by one, the animals perished. Their souls turned into mist, but the tiny, golden part that had been given to them by the beings floated upward toward the sky, and they became stars. Only when the last night came, when the day turned into blackness and shrouded everything in shadows, did the two beings finally catch sight of the first star that glinted down on them. They recognized it as their own, and for the first time, they saw what had become of their beloved earth. It had been utterly destroyed and lay in ruins. The younger was enraged once again, and he lashed out at the elder for not trying to save it. The elder snapped back, and the two seperated and turned their backs on each other, vowing that they would never reunite again. The elder left. Just like that, she turned her back and went away, to no one knows where. The younger was left on his own. With a heavy heart, he was left in charge of the smoldering remains of the sphere. He tried to heal it as best as he could; he molded it and attempted to mend the cracks and make it whole again. But he wasn't enough. He needed the elder. One being wasn't enough to save anything, but still, he tried his best. However, no matter what he did, in the end, the earth was still crooked and twisted. It wasn't perfect any longer. Some regions were deathly hot, and other parts were freezing. The snow in the north and the heat in the south split into four seasons: the smoldering hot Greenleaf, the chilly and dry Leaf-fall, the cruel and harsh Leafbare, and the season of Newleaf that promised nothing but lies. Storms became more frequent. Rain was regular. Lightning always seared the surface of the earth. Some days, even the moon ceased to rise in the night. The survivors of the animals were corrupt, with not a single ounce of goodness left in their souls. The remnants of the beings had left them. The first lie was created, and then the first murder, and then betrayal, and revenge, and all of the other deadly emotions. The earth was filthy and tainted, and pure no more. In the end, the younger being gave up and fled."

"To where?"

"Nobody knows. The two beings were never heard from again. Yet, even though nobody watched over the earth and protected and helped it, it still managed to live on, even if just barely. The animals gave birth, and died, and then gave birth and populated the regions once again. Over the years, they lied and betrayed and killed and hunted, but they still lived on and on. And to this day, the earth is still here, populated by the children of the ancestors of the first. We still see the stars glittering above our heads, ancient remnants of the long-forgotten beings. Here we are today."

Silence. The trees swayed in the wind. The moon hovered, wrapped in its silver quietness. A fog hung about the trunks.

Dewstep sighed softly, but not with anger or annoyance. It was a sigh of sadness.

He muttered, "You told me that story to get my mind off things, didn't you."

He paused. "Thanks, I guess." A shrug.

Ember breathed softly and closed her eyes.

"So that story," Dewstep continued, "Do all foxes believe in it, like how the cats believe in StarClan?"

"It's as real as StarClan," came the reply.

"You don't even believe in the same things I do," he retorted.

"That's because StarClan aren't even my ancestors to begin with. But yes, every fox believes the two beings to be real. I do, too. It's the oldest story in the universe."

"Hmph." Dewstep's back was turned once again. His eyes fluttered shut, and his breathing became quieter.

Ember watched him, watched how his ears were folded against his head and his tail curled tight around his body as if he were holding himself and afraid of falling.

"You still think of her," she whispered. "You're sad, because of her. You didn't lose everyone in the War, you know."

The angry scathing was in his voice again. "Of course I'm not alone," he growled. "I've got you and Spottedblaze, don't I?"

The anger in his voice was real.

Ember was silent for a moment.

"Dewstep, I'm sorry."

"No, no, don't be. Don't ever apologize, not to me. You didn't do anything wrong. It was Fang who ruined everything."

He gave a shaky exhale of breath and calmed down a little. When he spoke again, the anger had evaporated and was replaced with something else. "It's just that...I don't know. I'm just mad at her because she broke her promise and left all of us behind. It's been years now. She's not coming back, is she? Not now, not ever." A shaky laugh. "She's forgotten us, hasn't she?"

"Dewstep..."

When he turned to face her, his eyes were wet. The amber strength in them had died out and now they were dull and pulsing. His ears were flattened against his head. In all the world, he felt like a kit again, scared and tiny and insignificant. He wanted to curl up and never wake up again.

"Is it really that bad," he whispered, "to miss her so much?"

"Oh, Dewstep," Ember murmured. She gathered him into her fur and wrapped her bushy tail around both of them. "Of course it's not wrong. I miss her too."

"I miss her. I miss everything about her, about the stories she told me, about our adventures together, about how we used to do anything and everything and fight together, side-by-side. I want those days back. Doesn't Shadefrost miss us too?"

When he gazed up at her with his sullen gaze, Ember thought that he really did look like a kit, a tiny defenseless kitten with no more strength left in his body. She wrapped him tighter, as if trying to cover him from the world.

"She's our friend, and she always will be. We just have to move on, continue with life. She's gone, but we will remember her."

"I'm sorry." Dewstep heaved himself up and quivered, his shoulders sagging like a tired old elder's, even though he wasn't more than a young warrior.

He sat back and looked up at the stars. "Right. All I have to do is to keep moving forward. No looking back." His voice trembled slightly. "Thanks for the story, Ember."

The fox raised her head to watch him leave, a bit startled from his change in emotion. "Where are you going?" she called.

"Back to camp. I have to be there in case the killer attacks again."

Her eyes softened as the dark grey shape disappeared down the hill.

She leaned back to gaze at the stars. They blinked back at her.

"He hasn't really changed, has he?" she whispered. "He still treasures his pack, where he belongs." She watched the moon. "Right, Scarlet?" she whispered.

Nothing answered her except for the distant hooting of an owl.

Ember exhaled slowly out of her nose and rested her head between her paws. _I still dream about them, _she thought, and closed her eyes to sleep.


	9. Chapter 8-What Have I Gotten Myself Into

**Eyy! Sorry about my long absence. I had just been really busy for the past few months with school and everything, so I'm sorry I couldn't continue on with the story. But I did read your reviews, and I'd like to thank you all for your support. And an extra thank you to 'Lazy watermelon', with love. ;)**

CHAPTER 8-What Have I Gotten Myself Into?

"I don't want you to go out." A warm voice laced with the sweetest of honey, but underneath, hidden behind the veil, was a subtle hint of a warning tone.

Featherpaw stiffened at her mother's voice and stopped to shoot her a withering glare. What was her problem?

She ducked her head and grimaced as Ivypool rasped a careful tongue over her ear.

"It's not safe. Not after Moleclaw," she murmured, and stepped back to gaze at her daughter with mournful eyes. "I don't want to lose you."

The apprentice flexed her claws. She wanted to get out of the camp and run all the way to the mountains and back. She wanted to race again with Stormpaw, she wanted to hunt in the reeds, she wanted to breathe in the forest and taste the rain on her tongue and be where her mother wasn't.

She wanted freedom.

As Ivypool began to groom her, Featherpaw bit her tongue and squared her jaw until it was set in stone. _I'm not a kit anymore_, she fumed silently. _I don't need to be fussed after._

"There." Ivypool leaned back with a satisfied smile and almost appeared to be beaming in the early afternoon sunshine. "You look gorgeous, dear. Try not to get your fur dirty again, or I'll have to start all over."

_But I want to wrestle with the others and run and jump and chase the birds in the air. I don't want to sit and be clean._

The Clan was boring and suffocating. In these past few days, after the mysterious death of the warrior, no kit or elder was allowed to leave the camp and all apprentices were to hunt with senior warriors. A sense of paranoia hung in the air as heavily as looming storm clouds. And an even darker doom overshadowed every cat's mind-there was a chance that the murderer was one of their own, a possibility of some familiar face hidden within ThunderClan, one who had hated Moleclaw so much as to lash out and kill him. The air reeked with a sense of stifled fear and distrust, and Featherpaw loathed it as much as she loathed the way her polished fur gleamed in the sunlight. The camp was her prison more than anything else.

She was snapped out of her thoughts when the voice of Stormpaw called for her.

"Featherpaw!" the tortoiseshell cat meowed. She was waiting next to the camp entrance with the other apprentices. "Are you coming or not?" Her tail was twitching with impatience.

Featherpaw perked up and began to bound toward them. Suddenly, without warning, a wall of gray and white fur soared in and planted itself firmly in front of her way with a cold shifting of the air. She skidded to a halt and blinked at her mother in surprise.

The queen replied to Stormpaw," My apologies, but Featherpaw won't be joining your hunt today. I want to keep an eye on her."

Featherpaw rolled her eyes. Fat chance that the murderer would even target her. Nobody ever noticed her except for Stormpaw.

She was just the shadow lingering in the corner, unimportant and overlooked. She would be dead soon, after all.

Featherpaw flinched when she remembered that night, as clearly as if it had only happened a few days ago. It cut deep into her mind and made something in her chest ache, a feeling that she couldn't quite name. Great StarClan, she loathed the flashbacks most of all.

_"Ivypool," Briarlight had mewed softly in a quiet, paper-thin voice. "I'm afraid that Featherkit..." It was quiet in the nursery, so quiet that Featherkit could hear the sharp intake of breath from Ivypool. The night was dark. Featherpaw remembered herself as a kit, gazing out past the thick pelt of her mother, past the opening of the warm den, into the black, swirling unfathomable reaches of the woods._

_After the medicine cat had told her with a regretful sigh, the queen had stared at her with large, shocked eyes, so wide at the corners that the confused kit had thought that they would roll right out of their sockets like marbles._

_She had let out a loud wail that had shattered the silence and made the kit wince in the sudden explosion of emotions, and then she had almost been smothered to death as the queen pressed her into her chest. _

What Featherpaw remembered most from the night was being suffocated by her mother's desperate licks and nuzzles. But she remembered the words, too.

_Ivypool released her hold on Featherkit and spun around, facing the two medicine cats. "But can't you do something?" she cried in sheer desperation. "Anything at all?"_

_"I'm sorry," Jayfeather's reply was blunt and unemotional. "There is nothing we can do. There is no herb that can prolong her death."_

_Ivypool's face had contorted into a furious snarl that would make even the adders uncoil. "What kind of medicine cats are you? Aren't you supposed to save lives?" She had spat the words out in black venom. _

Instantly, in that one night, her mother had transformed from a fretting, worried queen into a tiger crackling with anger and injustice and curses. That was all she could do: rage and grieve. She had cussed the medicine cats into mouse dirt, howled the sky black with her wrath and cursed the whole of ThunderClan and even StarClan themselves for not being able to save her oh so poor and oh so helpless daughter. Especially after her first litter, when all of her first kits had turned out stillborn into the cruel and unforgiving eye of the world.

Featherpaw remembered feeling indifferent and blank when Briarlight told her that she wouldn't be able to live for very long. Something wrong with the throat, she had said. Missing pieces. Some disease with no cure. Death would come faster for you, when your body will no longer have the strength to support you, were the words that were spoken with sympathetic sad eyes and wilting sighs.

"Might not be now, might not be later, but it will definitely happen," Jayfeather had meowed. "I'm very sorry," he said, with a voice that was icy and emotionless and didn't sound sorry at all. The apprentice had been confused at the start. She had felt her own throat. She could breathe perfectly fine, but even though she had a tongue, she couldn't utter a single noise. She had even peered into her reflection in the Lake. She looked the same as any other cat. So why was she condemned an early death, when all of the other apprentices could go on in becoming famed medicine cats and leaders and elders?

But, in truth, the apprentice decided that she didn't really care. Weren't cats supposed to die sooner or later? From the moment you were born, you were destined for the grave.

So really, the murderer would just be wasting his time if he decided to kill her. Ivypool shouldn't be so worried.

The warrior wrapped her tail around Featherpaw's shoulder.

"Come now, dear," she murmured. "I bet there's something from the fresh-kill pile that you'd like. A leftover squirrel. Squirrels are your favorite, aren't they?"

Featherpaw immediately began to bristle. _I am nine moons old! Too old for this! _Yet, the red-hot retort thundering beneath her pelt could not be expressed in words.

The tumbling kits stopped their roughplay to stare as they exited the den, watching the mother with her tail wrapped protectively around the apprentice.

Although they whispered among themselves, Featherpaw angled her ears toward them and heard every word.

"What's wrong with Featherpaw?"

"Her mother has to do everything for her."

"Frostfire says that she can't talk. Maybe she lost her tongue?"

"Acornkit! Shut up, she might hear!"

And then the kits resumed their squabbling and wrestling like a bunch of irritating jackdaws, and she had to be careful not to trip over them underfoot. _Stupid kits! _She thought crossly. _I'd talk if I could. _

She glanced up at the camp entrance and let a slow, sad exhale of air escape her. Stormpaw had gone, along with her friends. She was left alone in the camp once again.

Now, while _they _got to romp outside and hunt underneath the shade of the forest, she had to satisfy herself with being imprisoned in this boring place. While she moodily ripped into her squirrel, angrily scowling at Ivypool with a grimace strong enough to rot the Lake, a sudden jolt of something grim shot harshly into her mind and she stopped, jaw open, staring with wide and unblinking eyes in the direction of the forest. It had been icy and sharp, like electricity ripping through her skull in a clean, neat line. Every hair in the back of her neck prickled into thorns.

Every animal was born with a sixth sense, even if it might be tiny and unnoticeable. It told one what might happen, what could happen, what should or shouldn't come true. Most of the time it lingered like a fog, silent and still, but at certain, specific moments, such as when one is being watched or when he is in a place where he shouldn't ought to be, it leaves cold shivers down his spine like ice, or a small, nagging voice in his ear that urges him to turn back.

Instinct, every cat called it. It walked with every warrior like a shadow.

Featherpaw's instinct was sharper than others. She would feel a queer tingling in her paws or her chest getting tighter. Her fur would start bristling, and the air would feel cold. She recognized the signs every time, understood them and felt them like a hidden language. The apprentice often wondered if StarClan had gifted her with a sixth sense in place of a real voice. As if they had regretted marring her throat and decided to sew an expression into her soul instead.

Her instinct urged her toward Stormpaw. She couldn't ignore it. It just got sharper and more insistent, like a prodding in her ribs, the longer she waited and pretended not to hear.

_Stormpaw is in danger, _she thought_. _She knew. Her sense never lied. Maybe not now, maybe later, maybe even never, but Stormpaw's life would be and will be in danger. She was out there, somewhere along with Silverpaw, Wolfpaw, and Scorchpaw.

Featherpaw peered at her mother out of the corner of her eyes. Ivypool had her back against her, sharing tongues with Rosepetal. No one noticed her.

The white cat lingered on indecision. She really shouldn't make her mother fret any more, and she definitely didn't want to be scolded like an insolent kit. But only for a few seconds. In a split second more, her mind was made up.

_I'm sorry, Ivypool._

OoOOOoOOOoOoooooooOooOoooooooooooooOOoOOOoooOo

**Stormpaw's POV**

Berrynose scowled in annoyance and called with a warning tone, "Alright, enough is enough. If you keep running away like this, we'll never get anything done!" He sounded pissed.

"He looks livid," Wolfpaw whispered. We were hidden in the undergrowth, concealed entirely by a field of thick-leaved bushes until we were completely unnoticeable. A slash of sunlight from beyond the branches melted onto Wolfpaw's face like a golden mask. "Perhaps we should do as he says."

Silverpaw pouted. "Aw, but Berrynose is such a sourpuss. We'll never get to do anything fun if we listen to him."

"Fine then, do what you want! Who cares if the murderer finds you…" The cream-furred warrior was fuming now. He sniffed the air and began to tramp down the hill, in the wrong direction. "If I get my paws on you lot, you'll be sorry! I deserve some respect! You'll all pay, you—" His grumblings died out as he moved further away, his form growing smaller and smaller with distance.

I cautiously peered out from the bush until I was sure that he had gone. Sure enough, his ranting got him farther and farther away until he disappeared down the hill. The old geezer.

Shaking my fur of the tangles, I leaped to my paws. "Right!" I chirped happily. "Last one to the river is a rotten egg!"

Like a bunch of yearling gophers, we exploded from the bush and raced each other down the slope. The wind whipped my tortoiseshell fur back and forth, tossed along with the autumn leaves, and I laughed freely with the others.

This was the life! No responsibilities, no worries, nothing but excitement and happiness with the wind in my fur and the sun on my face. I opened my mouth to fill it with the taste of the wilderness. My feet felt as light as wings. I could almost fly if I wanted to.

The river gleamed like a silver ribbon in front of us, a shimmering, gleaming white band in the sunlight, as blue as the bluest sky there was. Strings of pearls seemed to glitter in its depths. I skidded to a halt at the bank, smirking when I realized that I was first.

"Woah!" Silverpaw cried as she lost her footing on the hill and came tumbling down like a rolling pin. She trundled faster and faster until her whole body became a gray blur.

Scorchpaw spotted her just a minute too late. "Hey!" he yelled, his eyes widening with shock at the inevitable collision. "Watch where y—" His voice ended with a strangled mew as the she-cat drove right into him and the two barreled haphazardly down the slope, paws waving wildly in the air as they tried to stop themselves from rolling.

Wolfpaw and I were laughing so hard our sides almost split in half.

The older apprentice suddenly broke off. "Stormpaw," Wolfpaw mused. "You might want to take a few steps to the side." Her deep blue eyes glinted with dark amusement.

"Huh? Why?"

I gasped when the bundle of fur rolled uncontrollably down the hill and rammed me so hard in the gut that I felt my ribs would crack. The three of us crashed wildly into the river with a loud, resounding splash. My bones were jarred and I heard the wheeze of the river as we plunged, uncontrollably, into it. For a panicked second, I flailed my paws and heard the roar of the river gushing into my ears, and then bubbles flashed like fish underwater as I kicked with all my might.

I broke the surface with a gasp. Wolfpaw was laughing by herself on the bank, the only one who was unbruised and still dry.

I scowled at her, but a glint of amusement still shone in my eyes. "Get over here! If I dunk your head in the water, we'll be even!"

Wolfpaw's eyes flashed again. "Hobble onto the bank then, if your legs aren't broken yet." She crouched down and beckoned with her tail, flexing her claws in and out. She had an amused expression on her face. "Loser has to clean the apprentice's den."

I smirked. "Is that a challenge?" She didn't need to tell me any more than that. I clambered out of the river, my fur soggy with trailing reeds and fallen leaves, and launched myself at her with sheathed paws.

We batted and rolled over and over again on the grass, trying to pin the other down, snapping our teeth at each other's ears in mock battle. I felt her breath on my face as she stretched her neck forward, teeth clicking in frustration when she couldn't get a good grip. A thrilling feeling of exhilaration coursed through my veins, something that I hadn't felt in years.

"Go Stormpaw!" Silverpaw cheered wildly from the river. Scorchpaw was floating next to her, body stretched and his face up so that he was staring up at the sky. "Ugh," he winced. "Never doing that again. The world is still spinning."

I found myself being pushed down roughly onto the ground, and no matter how hard I squirmed or thrashed, I couldn't throw her off. She had moved her lithe body strategically above me so that I couldn't kick my hind paws against her exposed belly.

She leered happily down at me. Her head and muscular shoulders blotted out the sun so that the golden light outlined her dark bluish fur. "It seems that your time is up, ShadowClan warrior. Any last words?"

I clenched my teeth. "I'm not finished yet!" I kicked my hind legs, aiming at her belly, but she kept dodging my attacks as easily as if she was made out of water. Her paws on my chest tightened.

"My, my," she mewed haughtily. "I caught a little pretty sparrow, but she won't sing for me. She tosses her wings frantically in a blur, but…," she lowered her head threateningly until we were face to face. "…she knows that she can't escape my clutches. Surrender now, and I promise you your death will be quick and painless."

"Never!" I snarled. "You're no match for me!" My eyes flashed with defiance. I couldn't lose!

With all the strength I could muster, I bunched up my muscles and in one sudden, abrupt motion, heaved upward and yanked her away. She landed nimbly to the side on her paws and we began to circle each other.

I glanced at Silverpaw and Scorchpaw out of the corner of my eyes, and then focused my attention back to my opponent.

"My friends won't be kept your prisoners any longer! If I defeat you, then I will save them and win glory for myself and my Clanmates!" I roared.

Wolfpaw crouched down and flexed her shoulders. "That may be so," she replied in a faked bored expression. "But I will prevail. I always win in the end, after all."

I lashed at her but missed by a mile. I landed clumsily, panting.

She jeered. "Poor sparrow, it appears that her wing is broken. She can't seem to find her footing. No matter, I will put her out of her misery!"

She opened her mouth wide. I could see all of her teeth, as sharp as needles, white as snow, filling the edges of the cavernous black maw like miniature knives.

For a moment, the world remained suspended in time. Everything else disappeared until it was only me and Wolfpaw, drifting in a black void. She grinned at me, mocking me, and I had to remind myself that this was only a play-fight. The river and the trees faded into darkness. A lone wind blew from the north and whispered in my ear all of the answers. _Look for her weak points. Her shoulder is unguarded. Distract her with words. If you lash out and hook your claws against her shoulder, she would topple and fall… _I grinned and scraped my claws against the ground. She smiled back with a taunting expression that reminded me of a rattlesnake rounding up a mouse. I knew this was only a game, that we were only pretending, but still…

This was reminding me of the old days. Something that I would rather forget. On _that_ windy afternoon…

I yelped in surprise when she slammed into my shoulder. I almost lost balance, but tightened my legs, staggered, and remained standing. If I fell, then the battle would be over. I would lose.

She showed me her teeth and prepared to launch herself toward me. I hardened my face into a vicious glare. I wouldn't, I couldn't lose to her!

Breathing slowly out of my nose, I concentrated every ounce of my being into her. She moved in slow motion. I could see every inch of her, of her dark grey fur flying in the breeze, of her ears flattened against her head, the patch of white on her chest glinting in the sun, her cold blue eyes strong and calculating with battle tactics hidden behind them.

Her hind leg! Her hind leg was unguarded and in full view. If I happened to reach out and hook my paw on it, I could trip her and send her toppling to the ground.

We barreled toward each other with our jaws parted. She leaped and I dove, we spun and gamboled, and then the two of us leaped into the air, intent on defeating the other, and right when I had her where I needed her—

WHACK! Instead of my paws batting into hers, our skulls accidently collided and a shooting pain lanced through my head. We dropped ungracefully to the ground like stones.

"Ow," I winced, feeling the throbbing pain on the side of my head. That would leave a mark.

When the agony finally began to lift, I heard Silverpaw snickering in the river. Scorchpaw, too, was laughing, although he tried to look away.

My eyes connected with Wolfpaw's. A slow grin stretched across my face. We exchanged solemn glances.

She nodded grimly. "It appears that we might have to teach our prisoners a lesson."

Slowly, we stalked toward them.

"Here comes the mighty hunters," Wolfpaw whispered under her breath. "Here to seek vengeance upon all who have wronged us. Any smarter cat would think twice about crossing our paths, but these pair of fools seem to have forgotten…"

Scorchpaw broke off and noticed us creeping toward him. "Wait, what are you-? No, wait! We're not the enemies! We—"

I dove into the river and let a splash of pearly water overwhelm him. He rose up, sputtering, and with a devious look in his eyes, splashed me back. Instantly, we had become a rolling, wiggling mess, as carefree as kits. Our laughter was like birdsong that flitted and weaved among the branches.

When we broke apart, he looked down at his dripping ginger and white pelt and huffed, "Great, I just groomed myself this morning. Now I'll have to do it all over again."

The tom's ears suddenly flattened against his head. He meowed in protest when Silverpaw sent another wave careening over him.

"Oops, sorry," she teased.

Wolfpaw, I noticed, had stopped joining in. She was staring with a blank look at the murky water.

I waded toward her, flicking a few drops teasingly at her nose, but she ignored me.

"What is it?" I asked. "We won't drown, if that's what you're thinking. The river is shallow."

"Maybe," she replied quietly. "But if the current gets any stronger than this, then…"

She broke off, her eyes widening into circles, before being yanked underneath the surface with an invisible force.

"Wolfpaw?" I asked, my chest tightening with sudden worry. Her blue eyes, right before she went under, had been a mixture of surprise and fear, raw and dull as the color of panic.

I shouted, "Wolfpaw!" Now that she mentioned it, the current _was _getting faster. And stronger. It tore at my limbs with powerful fingers and weaved roughly between my limbs, butting at me with its fierce head. I stumbled and almost lost my footing. With a fleeting sense of dread, I knew that if I did dunk my head under, if I did happen to carelessly slip on a stone and fall into the black waves, it would wrap its arms around me and hold me tight, never allowing me to resurface again. The current rushed and sucked at my fur and I felt the force in its swirling motion. Faster, faster, and faster still, never stopping, never ceasing, just rushing by until it had churned up the muck at the very bottom and now ran brown and dull and musty. What was happening? Just a few minutes before, the water had been slow and lazy!

Like a seal, Wolfpaw's sleek head broke through the surface in a cascade of flowering drops that caught the sun in their centers like crystal. My heart did an anxious flip in my chest.

Her blue eyes were panicked. Wolfpaw had _never _looked like this before. She was always supposed to be calm and collected and definitely not—

She parted her jaws, flinching, and I could tell just how hard she was trying, struggling not to lose her balance. I lurched again, and as a wave of black terror seized me, as I flailed about, trying to find a secure holding, I knew that the current was threatening to drag me down under like an enemy eager to drown me. It swirled with vicious motion, it yanked and tore with ferocity, it tangled its fingers into my pelt and wrenched with a grim passion. Instantly, the river had become a swiftly moving, swiftly running band of brute force, as strong as a serpent.

It barreled into me violently and I slammed into Wolfpaw's chest. Luckily, before it could sweep me away, she wrapped her paw around me and held me steady.

"Silverpaw! Scorchpaw!" she roared. The river roared back at her, louder than ever with a feeling of superiority. "Get out of the water! Hurry!" Her voice was fearful and tight. It was a tone of urgency.

No reply.

Twigs and leaves hurried past us on the suddenly dark liquid. Barks from trees, branches, mud, rocks, reeds, all a blur, all being whirled speedily and mercilessly past us. The river suddenly seemed too wide and unforgiving. We were just a pair of helpless beetles bobbing in the middle.

The river sucked and gushed. It was a greedy monster, a beast, a creature that craved blood and bone. Swiping at my heels, it gurgled and tipped the banks, lapping its silver tongue against the shores. More water kept rushing down like a brown waterfall. Pale foam bubbled at the edges. In a panic, I could no longer feel my paws touch the bottom, but Wolfpaw was a lot taller and stronger than me. I could imagine just the tips of her toes desperately clinging onto the river floor to keep us from being swept away, and that was it.

"Wolfpaw!" I gasped. I could just barely keep my head above the rising water. I spat out the mud. "Can you swim?"

"N-no!" Her voice was tight with fear.

"Hang on tight to my back! We're going to make it!" I heaved her onto my shoulder and she replied by digging her claws into my back. I hissed at the pain.

Her wide eyes stared back at me, and she seemed so much smaller from the pelt plastered tightly to her skin. "What are you doing?" she screeched.

Finally, after one last heartfelt struggle, she lost hold of the current. It swept us off our feet. As it churned, pushed, tossed us downriver, threatened to drown us, cascaded to overflowing in grey, cold torrents, I felt her tighten her grip on me, although there wasn't anything she could do to help either of us anymore. Louder than the roaring of the current was the pounding of my heart in my drenched ears.

Wet, freezing, flooding, swarming, slopping against the banks, seizing us with its current, yanking us down, the river carried us away like twigs. Its deep maw yawned up at us to reveal a blue cavern.

Fast! It was fast! I barely had time to think. I kicked my feet and struggled against the overwhelming current. I wanted to yell at Wolfpaw to keep kicking, to keep her head above the suffocating torrents, to keep alive, but my mouth was underwater and I could barely raise my nose up to breathe in air. My lungs shrieked with desperation. My heart did flips in my chest.

I was afraid, as petrified as a hare trying frantically to escape the hold of a predator on its back.

I thrashed violently, desperately trying to swim, to get away from the bruising pull. Leaves and sticks flashed past us. I even saw minnows, too tiny and weak to save themselves, being swept past, jarred and bloody from being pounded over and over again. Were we going to end up like that too?

I thought I heard my name beyond the crashing of the river. I looked up just in time to see Silverpaw clinging tightly to a branch that was careening wildly down the river like a boat with a mind of its own.

Her eyes were round with fear. She reached toward me, craning her neck as far as it would go. Any further, and she would fall in. "Grab my paw!" she screeched.

In a split second, she and the branch would be swept past us and all hope would be lost. I was flailing. I was floundering. I was drowning! Just a few moments ago, the river was calm and shallow with sunlight bouncing off its small waves. Now, it might as well be a hundred feet deep.

I made a wild grab for Silverpaw's outstretched arm. "No!" I gasped.

My heart skipped a beat when I missed her paw. Even our fur brushed against each other, but it wasn't enough. Like a bit from a tug-of-war game, the biting waters split us apart and dragged her away from me.

A wave crashed into me and I clenched my eyes shut as it collided with my small body. It knocked the breath out of my lungs and made lights dance behind my eyelids. It made me feel as if I were floating and falling at the same time. But right before I went under, I glimpsed Wolfpaw's head shooting out as quick as a flash, like a Venus flytrap springing shut to capture a fly in just a matter of seconds.

I opened my eyes when I felt myself being yanked upward again, with the precious air shifting against my drenched pelt. Droplets ran in rivulets down my fur and dripped like rain as she heaved me onto the branch. I felt its rough bark digging into my paw pads and hung on for my life. I was practically hugging the thing, and when I looked wildly around and found that we were safe, that we were safe and everything was going to be just fine and we could go home, I realized that there was only three of us floating on a flimsy island in the middle of a monstrous tide.

The river seemed to be laughing, but the roll of the waves pounded into my skull so much that my ears rang in tinkling bells.

I screamed, "Where's Scorchpaw?"

Desperately searching the ripping water, I peered at the depths and the rushing sleekness of the body. But there was nothing, no ginger fur or wails to signify that he was there.

Silverpaw suddenly cried, "Look out!"

The branch, our only salvation, connected with a rock and jarred it violently. It ripped and tore like claws until half of it was spiraling the other way in a shower of splinters, and our half was yanked by the tide in the other direction. Something jerked into my shin and wetness trickled down, but I could hardly pay attention. Everything was just a blur of colors in my eyes. Auburn! Black! The blueness of the sky! The grim terror of the waves! And a bright flash of scarlet, red as anything.

We were whirled out of control, the rock having torn one end of our raft into driftwood.

But we were still perched on the other half. We still had half a branch.

More were coming our way. More rocks down the current, sharp and glinting like serrated teeth. We wouldn't survive the next round!

I turned to the others. Wolfpaw was trembling, her wet fur plastered onto her skin so that it refined the slimness of her shins and made her seem so weak and helpless. Silverpaw's claws was dug into the branch, her form still and rigid, her eyes glued to the river hissing past them. If it weren't for the frantic heaving of her sides, the light grey tabby seemed as if she was set in stone. My mind was whizzing. Thoughts raced passed me and was lost in the river. If I didn't do something soon, then we'd be washed away. The bank lingered in my sight. How far away was it? Five feet? Ten feet? I couldn't think clearly, not with everything going so fast.

"Wolfpaw!" I panted. "You have to jump. Hurry!"

She spun her head around to give me a wide look of terror. The calmness that she had that morning had completely been washed away by the tide. "Are you insane?" she howled. "The bank is a long way off! I can't make it that far! I—"

She broke off with a short cry when the branch was bashed harshly against a boulder and whirled off-course. There was a harsh, dry cracking sound that made the wood groan.

"Wolfpaw, just do it!" I screeched fiercely. "You're strong enough to make it. You're the only one who can! Jump onto the bank and—" I broke off with a gasp when the wood rocked underneath me. "-And go get help!" I flinched and braced myself as another rock slammed into the branch. This time, I almost slipped, and wrapped my arms tighter around it.

_Folly, folly, folly! _the current seemed to sing. A vision of Berrynose's awful grimace flashed into my mind. Why on earth did I decide to come here? Why, in the name of StarClan, didn't I just listen to Berrynose like I was supposed to? And now look where I got us!

_ Folly, folly, folly!_

She opened her mouth to protest, but I shot her a glare. She closed it again, and a flicker of determination flashed in her blue gaze. She set her jaw in a grim line, and before she made off she drew her sister in close and nuzzled her ferociously. Silverpaw didn't react but kept staring down at the swirling current, and I noticed how hard she was trembling through her drenched coat.

Wolfpaw bunched up her muscles and sprang forward. It sent the little branch bobbing up and down violently. I steadied myself with my tail and watched as she soared through the air, her tail streaking behind her in a ribbon and her claws outstretched in front of her. She was airborne, for just a few seconds.

I held my breath. _Come on! You can make it! _And what if she didn't? I imagined her soaring and then plummeting back into the sucking current before being spun and ripped away downriver.

Wolfpaw was the strongest out of all three of us! Surely, she could make it?

The cat landed on the opposite bank with a thud that jolted her whole body. She paused for breath, scrabbled to her paws, and made off in the direction of the camp.

She was only a small shape in the distance by the time she was up and running. The river was impatient and hastily carried us away.

The band of rocks just in front of us was looming and growing bigger and closer with every second. White mobs of foam lapped greedily at the edges.

I shouted Silverpaw's name. When she didn't answer, I slapped my tail across her nose, snapping her out of the trance.

"Climb on my back!" I shouted, roaring so that I could be heard above the bellowing of the crashing water. "We're ditching the branch!"

"But—"

"Don't worry, I can swim! Just shut up and do as I say."

She hesitated, eyeing the dangerous water nervously. Even I was scared, probably even more terrified than her, but I didn't let myself show it. If I broke down and freaked out, then we would be smashed to bits against the boulders and whirled away to nothingness.

"I'm going to jump at the count of three. Ready, Silverpaw?"

She took a few seconds to reply, but her voice was faint and trembling. "Y-yes."

I didn't have enough time to even start counting and preparing myself. A deafening, splintering sound boomed in my ears.

"Woah!" The branch was yanked out from under me violently, and I toppled over and fell, crashing, into the depths. I didn't even have time to hold my breath.

Coldness engulfed me. The crash of the river was silenced into a dull thundering underwater. I waved my paws around wildly, but there was nothing to grab onto. I was just a tiny form floating underwater, carried swiftly by the current to nowhere.

Squinting open my eyes, I let out a cry of bubbles as I was beaten mercilessly by the rugged rocks. My spine was yanked in opposite directions. My skull was bashed roughly like stone on stone. My ribs collided with the boulders. They scraped my pelt and knocked my head so as to send my mind reeling, and still, the river droned on and on and on and ceased to stop. The roaring filled my ears, filled every inch and cavity so that my whole brain was bursting with the noise. I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe. I could hardly see beyond the deep blueness that was swimming with shadows.

Oddly enough, I didn't feel frightened anymore, just dull and blank and very, very tired. I tried to kick my feet, but my limbs wouldn't obey me anymore. The rocks had bruised them to a pulp. I had no control of the river. I was gone.

All of a sudden, past the unfathomable cerulean liquid, something was hurled past me. I glanced up just in time to see Silverpaw being swept past, bubbles exploding from her mouth as she tried to wail. Her eyes were large and petrified. She flailed her paws wildly as if she was trying to reach me, but no matter how hard I tried, the only thing I could do was twitch my paws. My muscles screamed in protest.

I gazed at her dully through squinting eyes, my vision already growing fuzzy and dim. I opened my mouth to call her name. Nothing came out, nothing but a trickle and a flurry of bubbles. Air! I needed air! My lungs were crackling like paper. They were shrieking.

As the sense of drowning began to kick in, my mind still struggled to stay awake. _Look there, _it told me. _You can still fight. _

My eyes widened. If I tried, if I ignored the feeling of my lungs bursting and the ache of my battered limbs, I just might save her.

I couldn't let the river drag her away from me!

In sheer desperation, I struggled and dove my body toward her. _Kick! Keep kicking! Stay alive!_

My lungs had stopped screaming for air and were on the brink of failing on me. I quickly clenched her scruff between my teeth and made my way toward the surface. It might as well have been a mile up. I couldn't! I couldn't do it! My energy was drained, my life slipping away among the rocks. I was numb all over. My muscles tingled with pain. Silverpaw was a dead weight in my mouth.

But then, as if it had suddenly decided that it was on my side, the current gave a small push, and it was enough.

I was rocketing skyward, toward the brightness of the surface, closer, closer, closer—

My head broke the water and I gulped in large mouthfuls of the precious air. My lungs heaved. I had a throat that seemed to be dry, ribs that seemed to be broken, but I was still alive!

I let the current carry me closer to the bank and I latched on to it with a paw. It took all of my effort not to weaken my grasp. This was it. My muscles couldn't and wouldn't support me anymore. This was my last ounce of strength.

Struggling with all my might, I heaved Silverpaw onto the shore. She plopped onto the grass wetly, her eyes closed.

I strained my neck forward, feeling the dirt tickle my neck.

"Silverpaw," I whispered. I wasn't sure if she could even hear me. I couldn't even hear myself. My ears were still ringing.

The frail body was still, the wind buffeting the glinting fur. A sense of doom overwhelmed me and almost crushed me under its weight. She couldn't be dead!

But she twitched. It was just a tiny movement, a flick of the ear. But for certain, she was alive.

I did it. I closed my eyes, feeling lightheaded, and watched the blotchy lights flicker and dance under the red of my eyelids. I was already slipping away. The river threatened to carry me off again.

She stirred and coughed. I watched as she made a grimace, and then with my heart fluttering softly, she opened her eyes. They were unfocused at first, but gradually, her mind recollected itself and she noticed me.

She paused for breath, and then whispered hoarsely, "Stormpaw. You saved me." I no longer recognized the voice. Her throat was gasping and rough.

I grinned tiredly. "Yeah. It was me who dragged your butt all the way here. You're lucky." So very lucky.

Her brow knitted and she clenched her teeth. "Hey, Stormpaw? I can't move."

"Yeah, me neither. We're really exhausted. The rocks really did a number on us, didn't they?"

"You're bleeding, Stormpaw." Her voice was strained. Her eyes widened in concern.

"It's nothing." I didn't bother to look down at myself. I didn't even want to talk anymore. Too tired. My eyes were already beginning to droop, and the fuzziness was back again.

The she-cat mewed with a strained tone of fear, "You're still in the water. Get out, or it'll drag you away again…"

I didn't have the heart to tell her that even if I tried, I couldn't manage to climb onto the bank. Too worn-out. Too exhausted. The river had already claimed me.

"Stormpaw…" Her voice was beginning to grow panicked.

My eyes widened and I flattened my ears against my head. The tone of her voice had sparked something within me.

Man, I didn't want to die. I didn't know, until now, that I wanted to live so badly.

I didn't mean to, but my paws accidently slipped, and before I knew it, I had dropped into the river and the torrents crushed me and dragged me downward. I didn't even have any time to shout.

OOoooOOoOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoOOoOOoOOo

I was falling, falling, crashing down into the cosmos and beyond, my body careening sideways and upwards and upside-down. I was a million miles from the water, the river, the treetops, everything. I felt like I was floating out of my body.

I was moving in a void between dreams and reality. All of a sudden, my lungs were burning, scorching, flaming! They were on fire! But how could that be? Wasn't I underwater? I parted my jaws slightly open, and with a satisfied shudder ripping through my spine, the burning in my lungs went away and left a heavy, overpowering numbness.

I couldn't feel my body anymore. I was just a brain drifting in nothingness. My body was made of mist.

_Oh, _I thought. _Drowning doesn't feel too bad. _Silverpaw was safe, Wolfpaw was safe. Scorchpaw was still missing. Was he down here, with me, right now? I couldn't bring myself to open my eyes.

_ I'm sorry I couldn't save you._

"Hush," a voice suddenly echoed. It was close by, so close that I felt its breath on my cheek and I felt, that if I reached out with my paw, I could touch it.

"Don't worry, I've caught you. Don't try to fight. Just relax."

A StarClan warrior, preparing to take me up to heaven? That was a funny thought. I wanted to laugh, but not in happiness. A mechanical, cruel laugh. Why did I think I was going to heaven? I didn't even deserve to go there, with all the things I ever did. Especially that one thing, all those years ago.

It was a male voice, I realized, and not one I've ever heard before. I kept my eyes closed and willed myself to drift away.

"I know you're still conscious. I still feel the life in you. Huh," the voice said. "Most other cats would have gone by now, but you're still here. You're a fighter." There was a hint of a smirk, a tone of cockiness in it that I did not like. I wanted it to shut up.

And it did. I felt its presence leave me. I was left alone to my watery grave.

OoOooOoOOoOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoOoOOooooOOOOoOOoOoOOo

_The cat made out of fire beckoned me forward and stared deep into my eyes, and I looked deep into his. They were green, as green as grass, although his pelt burned with the ferocity of fire. Orange and red. Like the sun._

"_It's you," he breathed, with a tone of satisfaction in his voice. He turned his head and called into the darkness. "You see, Bluestar? I brought her here, safe and sound, just as I promised."_

_This was a dream. I was sure of it. But why couldn't I move? The only thing I could feel was my eyes. No matter how hard I struggled, even when the blue-grey she-cat came and peered closely at me, I couldn't budge. What happened to me?_

"_Yes, this is her. The one we chose," she mewed, and as she stared at me, her blue eyes softened into clouds. "Yes. She has come." _

_Firestar glanced at her. "Our omen has come. What should we do now?"_

"_No rush. We must wait until she is ready. Until she has decided what she truly wants to be."_

_ "And if she chooses the wrong path?"_

"_Which path she wants to take is entirely up to her. We can't influence her choices. She is much too stubborn for that. No…" She paused and raised her head. The look she gave me cut me straight to the bone and I shuddered._

_Bluestar continued, "If she does fail, if she does refuse to become what she is meant to be, then the stars would fall and the skies themselves would come crashing down to meet the earth. You know her, Firestar, just as much as I do." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "And we both know that what the foxes say are true. They've got tales as old as time itself."_

_I tried to wiggle free from the tightening hold, but I wouldn't budge. What were they talking about? Where was I?_

"_All the world would turn dim if our storm would vanish. The sun would turn into ice, the stars would disappear. Rage and desire would become nothing but stone. Everything would turn to chaos, if the storm ever ceased."_

_ Firestar meowed solemnly, "So if she turns her backs on us, and if we fail…can nothing be salvaged under the eye of the storm?"_

_And then, as suddenly as I had awoken, I was whizzed back away to the cosmos, away from the whole world, away from all my troubles._

OoOooOOooooooOoooooooooooooooooooooooOoOOoOooOo

It was quiet. Utterly silent. Nothing but the sighing of the grass.

I awoke to the feel of the wind on my face and the warmth of the sun on my body.

The sky was so blue, and I couldn't help but just stare dazedly at it for a few long minutes. It isn't just one color, I realized. The sky was lighter on the edges and a few tones darker up above. And I could hear birdsong, too. The roaring of the river was just a distant memory.

A face suddenly blocked my vision and hovered there. A white face freckled with pale grey with sharp green eyes, knitted and tight with concern.

We stared at each other for a moment. I didn't even know what to say.

When I got my voice back, I stammered hoarsely, "F-Featherpaw?"

With a satisfied huff through her nose, the she-cat sat back and began to groom herself as if nothing had happened.

I strained to sit up. "What happened?" Dimly, I remembered being battered against the rocks and Scorchpaw.

Scorchpaw!

I looked around wildly and finally spotted his still ginger form a few pawsteps away. His eyes were closed, but his sides heaved up and down with every breath he took. His pelt was still sleek and wet, but his face had a certain look of peacefulness to it.

I breathed a sigh of relief. I blinked down at myself.

"Ew. I'm a mess," I wrinkled my nose when I finally got a good look at myself. My fur was soggy and knotted in tangles. In a few tiny places, it had been ripped off in scratches, revealing the scraped skin underneath. At some point, blood had trickled down from a ragged gash just above my ribs, but the water had wiped most of it away, leaving behind only crusty scabs and pink, matted fur.

It didn't hurt right now, but I knew it would later. Right now, I only felt exhausted and lightheaded. I winced when I reached over to lap at my wounds.

My ears pricked up when the wooziness in my head began to drift away like a morning fog. I stopped grooming myself and peered over at Featherpaw. She eyed me with an unemotional gaze. I never could tell what she was thinking.

"Featherpaw?" I breathed. "You were the one who rescued us?" It seemed hard to believe.

She shrugged, a smooth, sleek roll of her shoulders. The apprentice then snorted, as if trying to avoid a pesky fly, and she glanced away. But her tail moved, just a few inches above the ground. I recognized it as the secret language that we sometimes exchanged when no one was looking.

_Yes. _

She threw a scowl at my way. _And you're lucky I was even there to begin with._

I gave an awkward laugh that ended up as a hoarse cough. "Yeah…I can explain. Actually, I can't. But there's more important things to deal with right now."

The river was a crystal band that stretched like a silver snake along the ground, weaving between the trees to separate the territories of ThunderClan and WindClan from each other.

I wrinkled my nose. "Have you ever seen a river rise that fast? It was so clear and calm at first, but then the current grew stronger with each second. Wolfpaw ran off to get help from the Clan, and Silverpaw…"

Whirling around with a rising sense of panic, I hissed, "Where did she go? Did you see Silverpaw?"

Featherpaw's eyes widened a bit at my sudden outburst, but then they relaxed again. She raised her tail, curving it in the air like a worm, and then she pointed with it into the forest.

I almost collapsed with relief. Thank StarClan! We were all safe then.

Staring at her with half-open eyes, I breathed slowly in and out through my nose. She had settled down so that her paws were tucked under her belly. Her eyes were closed, and I wondered if she had fallen asleep under the dull droning of the warm sun.

"Featherpaw?" I asked.

She didn't move, didn't even crack open a slit of her eye, or give a twitch of her tail-tip. I swallowed nervously. "Featherpaw. I—thank you."

The words were just a whisper. I spotted her ear twitch a little, angling the sound toward it, and then she shook herself and heaved herself to her paws. Her green eyes were as indifferent and emotionless as before, and I wondered if she had heard me, despite the flick of her ear.

She blinked at me two times and nodded at the woods. She whipped her tail against the wind.

I closed my eyes and sighed tiredly. "Yeah," I mumbled. "We should be getting back to camp before they miss us. How long was I out?"

She shrugged again, a motion as smooth as the rolling of amber waves. _Dunno. _

I planted my paws firmly onto the ground and heaved myself, wincing as my muscles shrieked in protest. Man, I was going to be so bruised tomorrow that I won't even be able to stand.

I gasped sharply as my ribs knocked together, causing a spark of pain to arch down my spine. I was afraid that she was going to ignore me and bound away, but in a matter of seconds, she was right by my side, the unconscious body of Scorchpaw slung over her back. She allowed me to lean on her shoulder, and together, slowly, we made our way back.

I could barely walk and had to half-limp, half-drag myself. Practically draping my whole body on Featherpaw, I cursed at myself. I definitely wasn't going nowhere near the river after what happened today. It was a miracle that no one died. I was still a little bit afraid of what everyone would say once I got back.

But…was this all my fault? I gave a small gasp of shock and halted dead in my tracks, causing Featherpaw to stumble. Scorchpaw's limp tail caught and tangled her legs. The apprentice furrowed her brow and gave me an intense stare. _Does it hurt? _

I quickly shook my head and gave her a warm smile. "No, no, it's nothing, really. Let's get going." I drenched my tone with cheerfulness, hoping she wouldn't be able to see past the mask. She peered at me warily, as if she could try to pry open my thoughts, but then, in a sudden act of understanding, she stood back and nodded. The cat paused to readjust Scorchpaw's position on her back and then galloped off into the shadows of the woods, leaving me alone among the trees. The river gushed and flowed behind me, its rhythmic gurgling now as bright as the song of birds.

I was the one who decided to ditch Berrynose and run off toward the river. I was the one who suggested it, who insisted it, and the others had listened and given in. How stupid was I? I pictured Silverpaw's terrified face as her mouth opened to a soundless wail as the water exploded over her head and threatened to drown her. And Scorchpaw, although he still breathed, could be dying this very second. He looked peaceful enough, but if the medicine cats couldn't save him? What then?

I suddenly broke into a run. _Please forgive me, _I thought anxiously. The wind tore at my whiskers as I raced past the undergrowth. I sent pebbles flying after my wake. A sudden fury throbbed in my veins. I was angry at myself, furious at my stupid old, ugly self. I wanted to rip myself to shreds. For a split second, I thought about throwing myself back into the river. It would be fair, right? If any of them died, and I was the one to blame, then…?

No, don't think about that. Two wrongs didn't make a right.

_Please let them be alright, _I prayed to StarClan, and as I caught up to Featherpaw, I wished with all my heart that, just this once, the world would turn in my favor.

OOooOoOoOoOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoOOoOoOOOOooOO

We broke into the camp, sides heaving and chests throbbing. I wanted to sneak past the warriors and see if I could distract their attention from Scorchpaw's dripping form, but when we slipped past the gorse barrier, I halted in surprise. There was a lot of commotion from the center, something that was hidden behind the tops of the dens. There was a great deal of yowling and hissing, like there was a fight going on. It made my tail bristle with a foreboding doom.

"What's going on?" I asked Featherpaw. She didn't answer, but looked just as confused as I was. Great StarClan, how could so many things happen in one day?

I really didn't want to step closer and find out. I wanted to curl up on a bed and sleep there for an eternity, or at least until my bones stopped feeling like jelly. I forced my paws to drag me over to the clearing, dreading what I would see.

The ruckus grew louder like a pot threatening to boil over. A flurry of angry voices, hissing and barking, like crocodiles snapping their jaws in the middle of a murky lake. I wasn't sure if I was able to wade myself out of this one.

I peered cautiously out from behind one of the dens. "Um, h-hello—"

I was abruptly cut off with a hard-cut voice that made me want to shrink back and hide. Bramblestar and the warriors were facing off against someone else. I had never seen him look so frightening. He looked scary enough when he was feeling neutral, but right now, his eyes were wide and as sharp as flint. His claws scraped furiously against the ground, strong enough to crack open tree trunks. His back was toward me. He was busy screeching at someone with a voice as loud as thunder.

I stiffened when a gust of breeze wafted the strange scent of the moorland toward me. _WindClan? _What were they doing here? Was this an attack?

But if it was, no one was attacking. I couldn't detect the metallic smell of blood, but I had a feeling that I would soon. Inching my way forward, I craned my neck, fur standing on end when I spotted the handful of WindClan cats facing off my Clan. My claws instinctively sank into the earth. I didn't know any of them, but their scent was clear enough. They smelled of wind and rock and short, dry springy grass. I spotted a brown tabby crouched in front of them. Onestar was here too?

"I'm not looking for trouble," Bramblestar growled, but the rumble in his throat suggested that he would rather tear the cats apart than talk to them. "Just leave now, and don't let me hear any more of this wretched nonsense."

One of the WindClan cats stepped forward, a brave movement, and looked the leader in the eye. He smirked haughtily. "Empty words, Bramblestar. Just spit it out. Admit it. Are you liars as well as murderers?" The ThunderClan cats immediately began to yowl in protest, a roar that made my ears ache with the ferocity behind it.

What was he saying? Liars? Murderers? ThunderClan was neither of those! My fear was replaced with a growing sense of fury that crackled like flame. How dare he!

Onestar raised his tail for silence, an action that was quickly met with hostile glares. His face was blank, but behind his amber eyes, waves churned and crashed. "I am giving you a chance, Bramblestar," he spoke. His tone was thick with warning. He was getting ready to snap. "Just admit the deed. We already know your warriors did it."

Bramblestar spat out the words like rotten fresh-kill, clearly emphasizing each word. "My warriors did _nothing." _

The fire inside the WindClan cats ignited. Claws glinted and mouths opened, but they all held back, as if they were afraid that the sun would see their deeds. But they screeched angrily with all their might.

"Liars!"

"A bunch of maggot-headed cowards!"

"Flea-infested rats, the whole lot of you!"

Every word was coated with poison. I tore the ground into ribbons. I wanted to pounce and sink my claws into their fur. I didn't know why, but I just didn't like the looks those moorland cats were giving my Clanmates. What were we being falsely-accused of?

"Her body was found right in the middle of the border separating our territories!" Onestar spat. "There were scratches all over her. She was expecting kits!"

I froze. "W-what?" A WindClan queen…? What was he talking about?

Bramblestar growled coldly, "We had nothing to do with this. None of my warriors are brutal enough to commit an act that was as despicable as this. See yourself out, Onestar, or I'll throw you out myself." Electricity crackled between them.

_Her body was found right in the border…Scratches all over her…expecting kits…a WindClan queen…_

Did another cat die?

I sifted through the crowd, hoping to find Wolfpaw or Silverpaw, but I didn't see a trace of them. But I did see one face that wasn't snarling with anger.

With Featherpaw right at my heels, we discreetly slunk over to Briarlight, who was watching the whole scene with a scared look.

"Stormpaw, Featherpaw!" she cried with surprise when she saw us. "You're covered with gashes! Ivypool was fretting all over you, Featherpaw! And Scorchpaw—" She broke off with a loud gasp at the sight of Scorchpaw dangling limply from Featherpaw's back.

The expression on my face must have told her everything, for she quickly glanced around and ushered us quietly into the medicine cats' den. It was dark in there, and musty with the heavy scent of spiced herbs. The smell was so thick that I could almost taste it. As my eyes adjusted to the gloom, I saw two still forms lying in the corner on beds of moss. My eyes widened. I rushed toward them, the fight forgotten, and gazed down at the sleeping shapes of Wolfpaw and Silverpaw. They were curled up side-by-side, Wolfpaw's arms wrapped around her sister like a lion protectively wound around its cub. Silverpaw's nose was nuzzled into the older cat's furred chest. Their wounds were dressed, and even though I knew that they were going to be alright, a pang of guilt stabbed through me.

Out of the corner of my eye, Featherpaw was sliding Scorchpaw gently into some moss while Briarlight fussed over the two of them.

"What's going on?" Jayfeather's sharp voice demanded. He padded swiftly out of the rooms hidden in the back of the den.

"That's what I was just going to ask her." Briarlight glanced my way with a questioning look.

I backed away. "I thought Wolfpaw told you everything?"

"Wolfpaw collapsed as soon as she got here," Jayfeather growled. "It seemed that she had run the whole length of the woods, as if something was chasing her. She was terrified."

"Oh." My gaze lowered. "She was—"

Jayfeather's snarl interrupted me. "What was she doing then, huh? You should've seen how frightened she was. It was like the whole of the Dark Forest was after her tail." Surprised, I backed away as he stalked toward me. His blind eyes were so full of thunder that he didn't seem blind at all. "What did you do to her? To all of them?" He swept his bristling tail over the unconscious forms of Wolfpaw, Silverpaw, and Scorchpaw.

Jayfeather's fury was crackling like lightning. I was rooted to the spot by the intensity of his icy glare. I was too startled to speak. "You should've seen the way she bolted into the camp. You should've looked at her face!" he yowled.

Briarlight's voice intercepted his fire. "That's enough, Jayfeather. I'm sure Stormpaw didn't mean any harm."

My green eyes suddenly hardened. Why was Jayfeather so angry? My friends would live, wouldn't they? They'd be fine.

But Jayfeather could read my mind, and he backed me into the corner of the den, hissing, "I'm angry because you don't give a mouse's tail about them! Even though it's only been a few weeks since you arrived, I know how you treat everyone around you! You don't care about anyone but yourself. You don't understand the meaning of living in a Clan. If you can't understand the basic concept of being a warrior, then why don't you just go back to where you came from!"

Briarlight snapped, "Jayfeather! Stop it!"

But I couldn't control the anger that came bubbling up like hot water. "But I _do _care about my friends! I hang out with them, and I talk to them, and—and…" My voice trailed off.

He eyed me dangerously. His voice was a low rumble. "If you cared so much about them, then you wouldn't have done something so stupid as to make Wolfpaw come racing into the camp like she was on fire. If you love them so much, then you should protect them with your life! It doesn't take a genius to know that these cats have almost died today!"

I growled, "What's with you? You're always so furious and annoying."

"I'm angry because it's just the way I am. You don't know what I've been through. The weight I've had to carry. The ones I've lost and the ones I've had to protect. Someone like you would never understand."

I bristled. I was just one heartbeat away from slashing his nose. "Oh yeah? Well you don't know what _I've _been through either!"

In a swift brown blur, Briarlight thrust herself between us. "That's enough, the both of you!" Her voice was shrill. "We've got more important things to worry about." She yanked her tail up and pointed at something outside of the den. "Look!"

I grudgingly followed her gaze. Bramblestar and his warriors had chased the WindClan cats through the gorse tunnel. Before he left, Onestar leaped onto a fallen tree and yowled loudly, "I will never forgive anyone who threatens my Clan! Don't think that I will back down quietly, Bramblestar." His words were venom. "WindClan is at war with ThunderClan!"

At this point, I couldn't care less about what some idiotic WindClan cat had to say. I was still fuming over what Jayfeather had said to me.

Briarlight gripped my shoulders and shook me. "Don't you know what this means?" she cried desperately. "Onestar had just declared war on us!"

"Why?" I spat back. "What did we do?"

Jayfeather muttered without looking at me, "They said that they found the body of one of their queens in the middle of their border. Her throat was slashed. They couldn't scent anything, but her body was close enough to our camp that they think it was one of our warriors who did it."

I snorted disbelievingly. "That's insane. What are they, idiots? Why would anyone be interested in killing one of the WindClan queens?"

"There's no evidence to disprove it. Onestar has declared war on us. Who knows what will happen."

Briarlight added quietly, "The murderer might also be the one who killed Moleclaw."

For a while, silence descended into the den. The argument from earlier was temporarily forgotten. Two cats had been killed—but by who? And why? No one was safe anymore. An oncoming doom lingered in the dark corners of the camp.

And then the old fury seized me again. I rounded on Jayfeather, spitting with rage. "How come no one knows who killed them? Why couldn't anyone scent anything? Didn't anyone see anything? How can you yell at _me, _Jayfeather, when you can't even protect them yourself?"

He straightened up and snarled, "You've completely misunderstood everything I've said to you. You don't understand the meaning of living in a Clan, and you never will! Go back to wherever you came from!"

"Fine then! I will!" I shouldered my way past them and took my anger outside with me. I was still fuming. I was angry at Jayfeather. He didn't know me at all. He had no right to yell! And still, although I tried to push it down, I knew I was also angry at myself. What Jayfeather had said was true, no matter how hard I wanted to deny it. I really _didn't _understand what it took to be a warrior. But then, it might be because I wasn't a cat. Not really. I was still human in a way. Against my will, my thoughts drifted back to the city. What were my parents doing, at this very minute? Did they even care I was gone? And was Ashley thinking about me? I really shouldn't have left her like that without saying good-bye. I wonder…what would Ashley do, if she were me?

I huffed. She would probably go back to Jayfeather and apologize to him. Well, that mangy tom didn't deserve an apology! I wasn't going to crawl back to him and ask him for forgiveness. Instead, I stamped my way over to the apprentices' den and plopped heavily down on the moss, burying my face in its crackling softness and breathing in the scent of soil. I ignored the voices of my Clanmates outside. They could sort out the mess with WindClan on their own. I was too tired to join in. My wounds still ached.

_Just what had I gotten myself into? _I heard someone enter the den on light paws, but I only buried my face deeper into the moss in reply. For a while, no one spoke. I didn't feel like talking. And Featherpaw wasn't much of a talker either.

Instead, we just sat there, the two of us, listening to the sounds of the outside world while we were encased in a bubble where nothing could touch us. I imagined us drifting up into the blue void of the sky while I gazed down at them below.

I raised my head and mewed dully, "Featherpaw."

She perked up her ears.

I shook my head. "Nothing." I had so much to say but my soul was empty. I glanced at her. She was lying next to me with her tail wrapped around her. Her fur was soft. It had always been soft, like clouds. It had always been pale, too—the greys and the whites were so pale and watery compared to the sharp greenness of her eyes. Her eyes changed and shifted. One moment they were sharp like a falcon's and as dark a shade as the moss that clung to the shadows of the tree roots, and the next minute they caught the sunlight in their depths and softened enough to become the grass that outlined the brush of the moor. Her eyes spoke so much about her that her tongue never will. I wondered, if I told her everything I knew, everything that happened in my life, from beginning to end, skipping the good parts and telling the bad ones, would she understand?

Hardly anyone did. Not the counselor, not the teachers, not even my parents. The only other person who could listen to me was Ashley. But Ashley was gone now.

"Hey," I whispered. "Do you ever get the feeling where you're so full to the brim with words that you'd think you'd burst—and there's no one there who you can tell them to?"

Featherpaw hesitated. And then she nodded.

I shut my eyes. "Yeah. I feel that a lot."

_You see, Bluestar? I brought her here, safe and sound, just as I promised._

_ And we both know that what the foxes say are true. They've got tales as old as time itself._

_ So if she turns her backs on us, and if we fail…can nothing be salvaged under the eye of the storm?_

Those words weaved through my head like dreams as I drifted off to a tired sleep. I felt that I had heard them before, but I didn't know where. It lingered at the back of my memory. Oh well. I could always remember later.

"


	10. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

The air was stifled with the heavy musk of fear and sheer nervousness. Every cat was radiating off a sense of anxiety that crackled and leaped in their fur like static. The fear moved in ripples, like the ones in the Lake, until it had traveled the whole length of the camp and had everyone consumed in its wake. Moleclaw was dead. And only a few days later, Sedgewhisker, a WindClan queen, had turned up in the middle of the border with an open gash in her throat.

At least, that was what I was able to find out from eavesdropping on the rumors floating around in the woods. I shivered and buried my nose in my chest fur, partly because of the chilling autumn air and also because of the recent murders. The killer was picking all of us off, one by one. And he was strong too, from the looks of it. He had managed to kill two cats with only a slash to the neck.

"What are we gonna do?"

Silverpaw's wide, fearful blue eyes peered up at me from the gloom of the medicine cats' den. I didn't have an answer for her.

Instead, Wolfpaw drew her closer against her side and wrapped her large, slim tail around her sister.

"Don't worry, Silverpaw," she murmured, licking her forehead. "ThunderClan warriors are the bravest cats in the whole forest. They won't let the killer come near us."

"But they couldn't protect Moleclaw," Silverpaw mumbled.

Scorchpaw's solemn voice drifted toward us from the moss. "And what about the battle?"

"We didn't do anything wrong," I scoffed. "Shouldn't WindClan think about their choice before they declared it?"

The tom's ear twitched. "Well, what's done is done," he sighed. "We'll just have to prepare for it."

A shadow fell over the light of the opening of the den and settled. Dark amber eyes surveyed the apprentices, narrowing into slits when they rested on me.

"You still haven't told me where you were yesterday afternoon," Dewstep meowed coolly. "Berrynose informed me that you had run off. He didn't know where to, though."

My fur prickled defensively. I opened my mouth to shoot him a nasty remark, but Wolfpaw rested her tail tip on my shoulder, urging me to calm down.

"We're very sorry, Dewstep," she mewed, dipping her head to the warrior. "It won't happen again."

"You know the forest isn't as safe as it used to be. No one knows what's lurking out there anymore. It is an apprentice's duty to listen to their superiors and make sure they stay out of trouble," Dewstep growled lightly, before turning his back to us and stalking outside.

Making sure that he was out of earshot, I lashed my tail and whispered angrily, "Seriously, what's wrong with him? Who put mouse bile in _his _fur?"

Silverpaw lowered her eyes. She was silent for a while, and then murmured, "You know, Dewstep hasn't always acted like this."

My ears perked up in disbelief. It was hard to imagine that battle-scarred old tom acting like anything except a raging thundercloud. I didn't even know if he could smile. It seemed that he always had a scowl on his face that was well on its way to becoming permanent.

I jumped and almost hit the roof in surprise when he called for me.

"Stormpaw! I need to talk to you." His voice was stern, as always.

Crap! Had he heard our conversation?

Silverpaw gave me an apologetic grin. "Sorry, Stormpaw," she said. "I, uh, hope he doesn't beat you up too bad?"

I growled, "Yeah, yeah. Maybe I'll manage to get away without him boxing my ears for once." Taking care not to step on any of their tails, I made my way past the medicine cats' den.

"Get well soon," I mumbled gloomily, right before I exited. The morning sun warmed my pelt and I wanted to do nothing but lounge around and bath myself in the light. Although the sun still glowed in yellow, the sky itself had ceased to stay blue and instead, had turned greyer into a crisper, colder shade, bringing with it the scent of frost on the wind. Winter was well on its way.

Squinting my eyes at the brightness, I made my way over to where the hunched, solid form of Dewstep was waiting for me.

"Yes?" I asked him in a monotone voice.

"I want to ask you again. Where were you and the other apprentices yesterday?"

I stood up to him. "We were hunting."

"It's no use lying."

I grimaced in my mind. I tried to think up of another way to deceive him, but then I gave up. It was no use in making him angry.

I looked away and replied, "We were hanging out in the river. The current suddenly got stronger and pulled us away."

Dewstep retorted, "That's impossible. The river never moves faster than a snail's pace. And it's even shallow enough for a kit to swim through."

"Well that's the truth," I hissed through gritted teeth. "I don't know what else to tell you."

He hesitated, searching me with his amber eyes. They swam with dull shades of dirtied gold and isinglass. Like polished stones, perhaps once bright but now worn away into nothingness. I saw myself reflected in them, glaring up at him with defiant eyes.

_You know, Dewstep hasn't always acted like this._

Finally, he closed them and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, they were a tad shade smoother.

"Alright, then," he said. "Just make sure you don't go wandering off next time."

I breathed a sigh of relief. I was expecting to have to sit through another one of his violent lectures, with maybe a cuff or two thrown in.

"Your wounds haven't healed yet," he mewed, eyeing the scabs on my ribs. "The others can rest for today, but you're behind on your training. Are you fit enough to move around?"

I scoffed, "You bet I am." The den was too dark and dreary. "What are we doing today? Hunting?"

"You need to toughen up on your fighting skills," he replied, heaving himself to his paws and giving his chest a few licks. "Especially now that we're on the brink of a war."

A thrill of excitement cut through the air. I was going to learn how to fight! At last! I hoped I could test out the new skills on some WindClan intruders.

He beckoned to me with his tail, and the two of us trekked out to the clearing. The dirt was much softer here, almost like sand, and it was well-worn with countless paw prints that littered the floor like numerous ants. It was quieter here. Everyone else was nearer to the center of the camp.

Dewstep dropped down to a crouch. "Now then. Let's start. The first one I'm going to show you is the half-turn belly rake."

He demonstrated to me, crouching on all fours with his tail low and sweeping gently. I focused on his every move.

The tom had flattened himself so low to the ground that he almost seemed to slither like a snake. And he was moving so slowly, too, sliding his paws to creep forward, his eyes intent on his target. I was sure that this whole thing would take an eternity. Maybe I should have joined the hunting patrol?

And then, suddenly, as quick as a lightning strike, he used his back paws to slide his whole body forward and swept like a wind underneath the belly of his imaginary opponent, turning himself side-ways in just a matter of seconds and using his front claws to rake down the belly of the unsuspecting cat. He had, instantly, become a deadly viper striking its head forward to clasp its fangs into its prey. He darted out again in a blur. The whole thing, the act of whizzing forward like an arrow to claw at the enemy, had only taken a matter of seconds. I hadn't even had time to blink.

I stared at him in a barely concealed awe. His muscles, hidden beneath his tattered and scarred pelt, rippled with unimaginable strength. How could he move so fast? He had flitted like a shadow, swiping his paws in a blur.

Were all warriors as strong as him?

"Come on then, are you just going to gawk at me all day? Show me what you know." His voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

When I gazed up at him, the corners of his mouth were tipped up in a slight smirk.

I frowned crossly and furrowed my brow. Right then, here goes.

I began to crouch down like he had done, making an imaginary cat materialize in front of me.

My mentor mewed, "Hey, hey, where are you facing? Practice your moves on me."

"What?" I turned to face him, studying him.

He looked back with the bored expression he always wore. The tom blinked, and then, as if realizing, he added, "I won't hurt you."

As if I'd ever believe that.

I crouched down, trying to imitate his moves.

"Crouch lower. Make your belly touch the ground."

I strained, trying to do as he told me to.

He sighed in exasperation. "Come on, you can do better than that. _Lower. _Pretend you're an adder. You have to flatten yourself enough to be able to slide underneath the enemy. There,_ now _you've got it. Hold that position."

_Seriously? _I looked like an idiot! I was stooping so low that I was practically hugging the ground.

My mentor commanded, "Now, come after me. Slide underneath my belly and bat your paws against it, then move out again. Remember to keep your guard up and go fast."

I clenched my teeth in determination. My target was right there in front of me, unmoving and in full view. I crept forward slowly, sliding my paws one in front of the other, the fur on my belly brushing the fallen leaves.

A cold wind ruffled my dappled black and russet coat. I narrowed my eyes.

Now! Kicking up the leaves, I dashed forward, aiming for the spot underneath him. I was nearly there, when without a warning, Dewstep raised his paw and sent a blow to my head that made lights explode in my eyes. Careening sideways, I held my aching head with my paws.

"What the heck?!" I yowled. "What'd you do that for?"

I glared at him.

He blinked at me calmly. "What, do you actually think that a cat would actually let you get this close to him during a battle? Things are different in a war. You can think of it as a game of survival, where every cat is trying to save his own life. It's chaos. Hectic. And you were moving so slowly too, slowly enough for your target to finish you off before you'd even pounced." His cold eyes narrowed. "You have to try harder, Stormpaw, or you won't even last a second on the battlefield."

I hissed in frustration. I thought I was doing everything perfectly.

"You want me to go fast?" I growled. "Is this fast enough for you?" If he wanted me to try harder, then I will! I made a mad dash toward him and slashed at him with all my might. He dodged my every blow and cuffed my ear hard enough to send me reeling.

"Focus!" he growled. "We don't have time to be fooling around."

_Fooling around? _I wasn't fooling around! If he wanted me to fight him, then-!

Gathering up my strength, I sprinted toward him. He swiped his paw at me again but I swerved out of the way, grinning triumphantly. I made my way for his side, but he batted me away with a stout stroke of his forearm. No matter where I turned, he always seemed ready to receive my attacks. I couldn't touch him, not even once! When I turned to meet him, he was everywhere all at once. "You want me to go all-out on you, Stormpaw?" he snarled dangerously. "I wanted to be softer, but it seems that you're tougher than I thought." I lunged, arms outstretched. He battered me down until I lay, panting and reeling, in the dust. But I wasn't ready to give up yet.

"I'm not putting up with you anymore, Dewstep!" I yowled. "If I can beat you right here, right now, then I'm going to look for a new mentor!"

"Suit yourself." His expression was unmoving.

I grit my teeth together. We both knew that I couldn't win. He loomed up at me like a dark mountain of steel and muscle.

I flattened my ears back, my eyes widening. He towered over me, blotting out the sun, his eyes cold and calculating, and he actually looked a bit…frightening. Something in his snarl that sounded dangerous.

_You know, Dewstep hasn't always acted like this._

I snarled back, the electricity between us crackling into red fury. He growled. So my frustration was finally rubbing off on him.

"You're so arduous!" he spat. "If you had even half a mind like Shadefrost—"

"Shadefrost this, Shadefrost that! You're always thinking about her! If you care about her that much, then why don't you go out and look for her?" I yowled.

I was erupting. Claw me, strike me, bite me to death…! I didn't care what he did to me anymore. There was only so much of his sour mood I could take.

"It seems to me that Shadefrost was a liar and a traitor!" I hissed. "If she really was your friend, she wouldn't have left you alone! Everyone calls her a hero, but I don't care. If she just abandoned you like this, then what does that make her?"

I wanted to rile him up, and that did just the trick.

He had stiffened, his body becoming as solid and impenetrable as a stone. His amber eyes were wide with anger, and his face had contorted into a nasty snarl.

"Don't talk about her like that," he said. His voice was low and filled with poison. There was a dam back there, cracking under the brunt of the weight, just barely holding back a vicious torrent.

Something told me to stop, that I was treading on dangerous ground, but I steadied myself and replied boldly, "You know what I said, and I meant every word."

That did it. The dam holding back the flood had snapped and crumbled into nothing but air. Dewstep gave a roar that thundered the sky and lunged toward me. I gave a terrified squeak and scrambled to my paws, desperate to get away from the hulking lion that threatened to tear me into pieces.

I leaped over boulders and made way for the trunks of the forest. I could hear his paw steps pattering behind mine, quaking the ground with his rage. What would he do once he caught me? Would he actually kill me?

My anger evaporated into mist and was replaced with a sudden fear that made my heart do flips in my chest.

He wasn't Dewstep anymore. He was a beast with fuming whiskers and a spine made of iron and fire-red eyes that singed fur and burned through blood and bone. He was after me. I didn't dare look back.

I raced through the forest with my paws on fire, never daring to slow down. My breath came in panicked gasps. The spaces between the trees were a blur of blacks and browns and greens and ebony. Sunlight flashed through them in white. It burned holes in my pelt. It spurred me on faster.

The world came tumbling after me when I suddenly slipped on a leaf and came crashing down. My breath caught in my throat. I stumbled to the ground, banging my shin against a tree trunk, and I squeezed my eyes shut as I waited for the feel of teeth ripping me open.

I waited in the darkness, stomach clenched.

A bird twittered in a high branch. A breeze ruffled the branches.

There was a silence. A long silence.

Cracking open one eye, I searched the woods for any sign of my enemy. But he wasn't there. Sitting up, I surveyed the tree trunks, my heart thumping so hard that I couldn't hear anything but the beat in my ears.

He was gone. I was utterly alone.

Well.

Well then.

My mind was still racing. What was I supposed to do now? He could be waiting in the shadows, trying to ambush me. Should I make a mad dash back to camp? I couldn't outrun him. And he would most likely be waiting for me when I got back.

I rested for a while, my ears alert, thinking of what I should do.

When the riot in my heart had calmed down, I got to my paws and limped further into the forest. Maybe I should wait for a while until a patrol found me. Then I could explain everything to them. I grinned in grim satisfaction when I imagined how Bramblestar would kick him out of the Clan.

And what had he been trying to do? Slaughter me? Did Shadefrost really mean that much to him?

Well, his devotion was being wasted. It was obvious that Shadefrost had never loved him as much as he thought she had.

Where did I go now? How long should I wait before he had calmed down?

I wove my way further through the forest, not really sure where I was heading. I thought that the direction I was going might eventually lead me out of the woods.

And it seemed that I was right. The bare trees eventually began to thin out. The red and orange leaves crunching under my feet were replaced with a hard, packed dirt that felt like I was walking across something scratchy, like glass broken into pieces as tiny as sand.

This place was interesting. Way more interesting than spending an afternoon listening to my mentor. I quickened my pace.

Leaving the trees behind me, I continued in the same direction. Right before my eyes, the color began to drain from the sky until it was only a gloomy grey. There were hardly any trees here. I passed only a few, only three or two, and then there was nothing. There wasn't even any grass. All the while, the air had gotten colder.

This place was creepy. It sent twinges up my spine. The shifting air nipped my neck. And I was startled to find that I couldn't even hear any birdsong. Was I really the only one here?

Several rocks, large and pointed and as black as ebony, jutted out of the barren ground like teeth from some gigantic monster. The cold sun gleamed sharply on their edges. I clambered onto it to survey the landscape, marveling at how icy it felt underpaw, so cold as if their cores had been frozen through. The sky and the horizon and even the sun seemed cast in iron.

I gazed at my surroundings. Nothing grew, not even any twisted, bare trees. The ground promised nothing but emptiness. It somehow made my chest feel empty too, as if it had stolen something from me. I was the only living thing here in this vast, desolate place of a wasteland. How come Silverpaw or any of the others never told me about this?

I stiffened when a wind moaned close to my ear like a living, breathing soul. But it was only a gale. In a few seconds, it shifted and spun around in a whirl, rushing away with a gush of air.

It tugged my whiskers as it left, and my eyes lingered over to a shadowed place further away. I squinted my eyes, trying to make out what it was. The thing caught the sun's light and reflected it in beams. It seemed to glitter like a diamond. Or like water. Blackish, purplish water that rose out of the ground in large hunks and seemed frozen in time.

I leaped off the rock and galloped toward it, and slowed when I neared. I didn't like this place at all. There was something about it that made me uneasy. Something in the wind, maybe?

As I got closer, I realized, with a sudden surprise, that the thing was nothing more than a large cluster of blackish stones. Large ones, towering ones, almost as high as the tallest of the trees. They blocked the view of the sky. But they were strange, like nothing I had ever seen. They were smooth but rugged at the same time, as if someone had torn out flakes from them. It looked like a dusky kind of glass, but was dark enough so that I couldn't see through it. They looked almost liquid. Like solid water, and I could almost make out the tiny ripples and bumps that spoke of fluid. The eminence was marred with long, deep scratch marks that welled up between the cracks like creases in paper.

The strange stones emanated a strange force. I reached out my paw to stroke it, but then shrank back, uncertain. I stepped away.

The stones were thrown haphazardly on top of one other, but just perfect enough so that there weren't any huge gaps between them. I circled the structures. It appeared that they formed some kind of a ring, as if it were trying to trap something inside. But what? What was in the center?

The ring was so ginormous that I couldn't even get to the end of it. The impenetrable black wall just stretched on and on, as far as I could see.

But there was something, or someone beyond this barrier. I could feel its presence. Could it feel me?

The air brought on the scent of something ancient and foreboding. Something very, very dark and very, very old. I pictured creatures with long, gnashing teeth and slivers for claws. A shudder worked its way down my spine.

And then, without warning, a voice broke the silence of the gloom.

"This is a very bad place to be in, you know."

I whirled around, snarling, preparing to pounce, but then stopped myself. My eyes widened in recognition.

"It's you. The talking rabbit."

He curtsied a bit, if a rabbit could curtsy. "You remembered me. Stormpaw, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

The rabbit perked up on his hind legs and reached up to grab a long ear with his tiny paws. He began to groom it.

"Do you remember _my _name?" he asked hopefully. His dark bracken eyes gleamed with a twinkle despite the coldness of the sun.

"Uh…yeah…it was Andy, wasn't it?"

He seemed to deflate like a balloon. Twitching his nose, he settled down on all four paws and muttered, "Oh, sure, Andy, yes, that's what I'm called." He shook his head rapidly. "No, no, you've only got the first letter right. Honestly, I'm disappointed in you. Felines can't seem to remember anyone but themselves."

He straightened up proudly, as tall as he could, which only reached up to my shoulder. "My name," he announced. "Is Atlas. Make sure you get it in your head next time."

I rolled my eyes. "Like I care." Turning away from him, I gazed up at the stone wall in wonder. How did this thing get here? What was it for?

Atlas hopped next to me, his cropped fur a combination of tufts of raw umber, wood-brown and taupe. It billowed in the biting wind along with mine.

"You wouldn't want to get too close to that, kitten," he said quietly. "It's been resting there for a long time."

"Do you know what it's made out of?" I reached out a paw to touch the glinting surface.

The rabbit's eyes widened. Leaping forward, he landed in front of me and butted my paw away with his head. "No touching!" he shouted, as if scolding a small child. "It's best to just let it be."

"But what _is _it?" I asked, exasperated.

He gave me an equally annoyed look. "Don't you younglings know anything these days? It's _obsidian."_

When I only gave him a confused expression, he continued, "You know? Volcanic glass? You can compare it to mafic rocks, but its composition is entirely felsic. Extrusive igneous. Polymerized. Turns into perlite when hydrated."

I stared at him blankly. What was this guy, a talking dictionary?

Giving him a half-hearted shrug, I replied, "Yeah, I got nothing."

He sighed, flinging up his small arms. "Well, basically it's just hardened lava."

"You should've said that sooner."

I sniffed it. Didn't really smell like anything.

"What's behind it?" I asked.

"Oh, nothing much. Just some magic. Very, very bad magic."

"You talk weird."

Instead of being offended, his ears perked up like two long stalks. His eyes glimmered. "Oh, really? You don't know how hard it is to achieve." He puffed out his chest. "They call me eccentric. Peculiar. Atypical. The usual things."

"Who does?"

He faltered. "Oh, just them. Everyone else."

But then he beamed again and straightened his back, balancing himself on his hind legs so that he stood. "I haven't really told you anything about myself other than my name. Shall I acquaint myself to you?"

"You really shouldn't."

"Right then! My name is Atlas Swindells, birthed in Mound Northwest Eight, rank 1A, alliance to…"

I left the oddball to his ramblings. The obsidian glinted sharply along its indentations. Magic was stored in here, he said? Whatever he meant by that.

I neared it, tried to peer through the tiny gaps where hardly even an ant could pass through. I rested my eye through it, and as I did, something else seemed to flutter by from inside and stare back at me. Choking back a gasp, I backed away, tripped, and landed on my rump.

I was still staring at the tiny gap, startled. Whatever was in there, it was _alive. _

"_Don't_ go near it." Atlas was apparently done with his speech that I never bothered to pay attention to. He looked up at me. "I don't suppose you've never heard of the sad old tale of Pandora's Box?"

I swallowed, my heart still beating a little bit faster than normal. "I have…"

"This ring is similar to Pandora's Box. Don't want to open it, or all the nasty evils of the world will come out. Shadefrost put this here, you know, to make sure all the dark things don't set a foot outside ever again."

I gaped at him. "You know her?"

"Who?"

"Shadefrost."

"'Course I do. Most everyone in these woods know, although I've never laid eyes on her myself. The birds were singing her praise when she left two years ago. She was just a cat like you."

Shadefrost. I heard her name everywhere. Just who was she, really?

Alright, then. Everyone was probably wondering where I was back at camp, and there was nothing else to see here. I didn't like the feeling this place gave me at all.

Turning, I shouldered my way past the rabbit and set out for home.

"Leaving, then?" he asked. He hopped beside me, stooping down to hitch a small cloth bag onto his shoulder.

I stopped abruptly to stare.

He noticed me and asked, "Yes?"

"That bag. What's it for?"

"It's what a bag's always for. To carry around things."

I snorted, and then continued walking. "Well, you look weird carrying it around like that. What's inside, anyway? And don't say 'magic' because I know it's not."

There was something lumpy in there, for it rattled every time he moved it. It wasn't big, though. Was it food?

"Oh, nothing really," came the reply. "Just crumbs. Tidbits. Odds and ends. Something a cat shouldn't be worried about."

I let the matter drop. I wasn't really interested in a dusty, threadbare cloth of a bag that looked half-empty.

I was only gone for a short while. Dewstep would be furious with me, if he was still angry about earlier. I shuddered when I remembered the frenzied look in his eyes. I shouldn't have upset him so much if I didn't want to be skinned alive.

If he was still angry, maybe I should give him something to calm him down? Something small. Like a thrush. But thrushes were too hard to catch…

Or a squirrel? Squirrels always scented me a mile away.

But a rabbit would be nice. Especially a fat, juicy weird one who was hopping along right next to me…

I grinned darkly. He was still moving along with that stupid bag slung over his back, deep in thought.

I stretched my mouth wide open and brought it crashing down on his head. My teeth clicked together and met open air.

Atlas jumped away, every hair on end, his brown eyes wide and alarmed. "What do you think you're doing?" he shrieked in dismay.

"I'm hunting you down." I smirked. "You shouldn't have been so quick to trust a cat in the first place!"

I scrabbled for him with my claws, but he raced away, always out of reach. I had forgotten how fast rabbits were.

Suddenly, he turned, the bag swinging behind him, and panted, "Wait! I still need to ask you a favor!"

I stopped, not because he asked me to, but because I was confused. "You're asking me for help?" Who does that?

I licked my lips. "Make it quick." I wasn't going to let him escape so easily.

"I wanted to inquire if you've ever dreamed of traveling?" he asked politely, his nose twitching hopefully. How adorable. It made me want to sink my claws into his fat pelt.

"Not really," I grunted.

"Eh heh, well just pretend you do. There's somewhere I need to be, but it's too dangerous for me to go alone. I need some kind of protection. And then I came upon you!" He opened his arms wide, beaming, as if presenting some precious jewel. "A cat! One who was friendly enough for me to talk to, even if only for a few minutes! Shining, lustrous fur! Long, needle-sharp claws! And a fair mind, too." He clapped his paws together and laughed good-heartedly. "So what do you say? Why wouldn't you want to help a poor old chap like me?"

"Because you'll be dead soon anyway."

"Look at me! Everyone's out to eat me! Snakes, eagles, falcons, foxes, and dogs, oh my! But now that I've got a cat by my side, I'm invincible. And besides, this journey is very important to me. How about it, partner?"

"Maybe after I swing off one of your ears, I might consider."

"Still don't want to go? Oh well, I tried. Now that I've said what I needed to say, you'll spare my life, I presume? You wouldn't want to kill _me."_

"I actually do."

"I don't taste good anyway. So long, then!"

He turned to leave, but I blocked his way with my tail.

He sighed, sagging his shoulders. "I actually thought you'd let me go. Farewell then, cruel world!"

While the weird guy lamented and began reciting a speech about 'the cruelty of the face of the globe' and the 'harmony the angels sing' and all that crap, I eyed his bag curiously. Maybe it wasn't such a worn out bag after all. Maybe there was something valuable in there. Like, coins? Or maybe jewels.

Or it could just be useless crumbs that I didn't care about.

"Oi," I said, interrupting him mid-sentence. "If you toss me the bag, I'll let you go."

"What, this lady here?" he asked in disbelief. He hugged the bag tight, eyeing me with a sudden defiance in his eye and slowly edging away. "Never in a million years! This bag holds my treasure. I wouldn't part with it, not even for my life!"

He gripped it in his mouth, and bunching up his hind legs, sprung away as fast as he could, his white tail bobbing up and down like a flag. I watched him take off. The fury from earlier had suddenly worn me out and left me deflated and worried. I didn't want to chase anything anymore. The thrill in the hunt was lost. What was the point? And besides, my wounds were aching again.

Something in the bag so precious that he wouldn't part with it in a million years? Something that he'd give his life up to protect? Sounded like something really important in there.

I sighed, heaved myself to my paws, and began trudging back to the camp. It was a long way back, and before I left, I casted one last glance back at the obsidian that concealed all the evils in the world.

OooOoOoOooOoOOooooooooooooooOoOoOoOOooOoooOooO

When I got back, it was sun-high and my Clanmates were gathering and sharing tongues in the center.

Ivypool and Featherpaw were curled up together. Or rather, Ivypool was clutching Featherpaw with her tail, making sure that her daughter didn't suddenly slip away. The apprentice had a sour look in her face.

"Hello," I meowed.

Featherpaw gave me a bored look, and then waved her tail, bending it in different directions in the secret signs we shared together.

_Dewstep wanted to talk to you. _She flicked her ear, as if brushing away a fly. _He's waiting behind the warriors' den._

I sighed wearily. Great, here comes my looming death. I made off in the direction she had told me. Behind me, I heard Ivypool meow sweetly, "My, my, it seems that you and Stormpaw are getting along quite well. You really should teach me what all your tail-waving means." I could imagine Featherpaw rolling her eyes.

I dragged my way over to the place behind the den. StarClan, have mercy on me!

I sighed once again, but then straightened up when I saw Dewstep's dark figure crouched among the shadows. He glanced up when I approached, but other than that, stayed silent.

"Uh, hi?" I waved my tail in nervous greeting. A cold sweat was breaking out on my forehead. He didn't look mad anymore, but who knows…?

I peered closer. No, he really didn't look angry. All of his fury seemed to have been drained out of him, leaving behind an empty sack of tired muscle and worn-away bone and isinglass eyes that seemed somehow blurry.

How long had he been waiting here for me?

I trembled a little when he raised his head, expecting to hear the worse, but stopped when his eyes didn't pierce through me.

"Stormpaw," he said in a weary voice. He heaved himself to his paws in a motion that just wanted him to stay down. "I…You…" He trailed off.

I took a deep breath. Yeah, I figured I wasn't angry either. I felt guilty for yelling, especially now when he looked so small.

We both turned our heads away, and in unison, meowed, "I'm sorry."

My eyes widened in surprise. _He _was apologizing? He was obviously thinking the same thing, for when I turned to face him again, he was blinking at me with a startled expression.

I suddenly felt stupid. Really, really stupid. Like tripping on the sidewalk in public and getting a faceplant with a bloody nose thrown in.

"I'll say it again," I mewed moodily. "I'm…sorry. For stuff that happened. Yeah. I know I shouldn't have said that about Shadefrost…and I shouldn't have provoked you."

I dipped my head.

I didn't hear him say anything, not even the shuffle of leaves which suggested that he was moving. Crap, what did I do wrong this time?

"I'm sorry." This time it was he who said it.

I raised my head and stared at him, blinking.

"I was never a good mentor for you," he murmured. He was staring down at his paws, refusing to meet my gaze. "I should've tried harder. I yelled at you a lot."

"Dewstep…"

I was starting to freak out. He was apologizing to me! We were both apologizing to each other! It followed with a long, awkward silence. What was I supposed to say now?

I hung my head. "I'm a screw-up," I whispered. I scoffed at myself. "You know I'm so clumsy that I can't do anything that you tell me to. I'm not as fast as Wolfpaw. I can't hunt as well as Silverpaw. Heck, I can't even chase people away like Scorchpaw can! I'm such an awkward derp. Can't do anything right." My shoulders sagged dejectedly. Why did I tell him this all of a sudden? Maybe it was because I didn't want him to feel as shameful as I did. I cursed myself. If I hadn't said all those rotten things earlier, then…

He stared at me. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking.

I stared at him cautiously, unsure of what to say next.

"Sorry," he continued. "But what I said earlier. I really meant it. And I was just so furious…After you'd run off, I thought a lot. I just never really stop and think anymore. I thought about all that you've said. And I realized that you were right. About me being a sourpuss, or whatever you call it. Nobody else acts like me. I'm a terrible mentor."

"Dewstep…" Was I really hearing this? Coming from this guy who just tried to rip off my fur earlier?

"And from now on, I promise that I'll be better. Unless you want to switch mentors, of course. I'm okay with that."

Woah. Wait a minute right there. Was I hallucinating? What is this?

I stammered, "U-um, are you feeling alright? Maybe you should go see Briarlight…"

"I'm serious." And I could tell from the glint in his eyes that he really did mean it. "But you've got to try your best too. Don't go running off again."

I stepped back, my brow furrowed. "What's gotten into you? You've never talked to me like this. Did you remember something?"

He turned away and mewed evenly, "If Shadefrost saw me now, she'd be ashamed of me. I need to do this for her. I'm going to train you to be the best in the Clan."

Shadefrost, Shadefrost, Shadefrost. Nothing but that name. I was starting to get sick of it. But still, if it meant that I wouldn't be feeling Dewstep's claws cuffing my ears anymore, then it was fine with me.

Well, at least my Clan life would be more peaceful from now on. No more scolding from my mentor. No more cringing for my head to be boxed.

I sighed. But the reason I was upset with Dewstep earlier today…it really was about this Shadefrost person. How could someone just leave him like that? Didn't she know just how much she was hurting him?

I didn't know why I was caring about his feelings so much about this. But maybe it was because I understood how it felt to be cast away. I knew it. If Shadefrost did suddenly show up after her two-year disappearance, then she'd better have a pretty good excuse. Dewstep's raging was because of her.

_ You know, Dewstep hasn't always acted like this._

I didn't believe at all at first, but I did now. He was a ragged tom with fury in his veins and anger in his claws, but I saw, right before he left, an emptiness in his eyes. Dewstep was sad.

As upset as I'd been when I had been left behind in the dust. And I hated the feeling I had right now, the feeling of shame and guilt that washed me like a tide. If he was willing to make up even after all the things I've done to him, then maybe…I should make up too? There wasn't any harm in doing it.

I clenched my teeth in frustration. Right, then. I would try my best to learn the ways of the warrior code from now on.


	11. Chapter 10-Go and Keep Going!

CHAPTER 10-Go and Keep Going!

The wind was bitter and wild and very, very frigid. Already, frost was beginning to creep up on windowsills and doorknobs in the mornings, then melting away to dew in the sunlight, only to be back again after another night. It waxed and waned with the moon that also seemed white and frozen to the core.

Everything seemed grey: the sidewalks, the shabby brick buildings wreathed in graffiti, the huddled pigeons and even the dawn of the wide, crystal sky. Winter was on its way. It was going to creep along slowly, whispering and breathing gales, and then after a few more months or two, it would suddenly descend upon the houses like a crude, violent blanket made out of snow.

A black-haired girl was making her way down the street, a jacket stretched across her frame and her chin tucked into it. It seemed, to any passerby that looked, that she was lost in thought. Her dark brown eyes were tensed up from the bitter cold, bright and fierce and quiet. Everything about her appeared quiet, silent. Her hair flapped in the breeze, the color of jet and onyx, maybe even a wavering charcoal that the sun could notice.

A small building loomed up in front of her, a small store.

The sign creaked on its hinges.

She shuffled a bit, from one foot to the other, and then pushed her way in. A little cluster of copper bells jingled their iron tune when she opened the oakwood door.

The aisles were empty yet full at the same time. A large quantity of dust had gathered on the splintered floor, gleaming almost like a dirty snow. It appeared that this place hadn't been used in a long time. It was nothing more than an abandoned shack in the corner of the street, held just barely together by nails and rotten beams and dead things. An old sinewed creature made out of a decaying body but whose heart still thudded strongly against worn-smooth shelves. The walls were lined with books. Cracked-backed, yellow-paged, crinkled and faded from the years, smelling strongly of some exotic spice.

"Are you there?" the girl called. Her voice bounced back and seemed all too small in the large, empty store, like a mouse's squeak.

She waited, and when no answer came, she huffed a little, and her head dropped low, and she made her way to plop herself down on a bean bag. It brought along a large quanitity of dust. She sneezed.

The girl cracked open a rugged book from the walls and opened it gently. But the letters were far too faded to read.

She glanced up again, far into the shadows. "I know you can hear me," she said. "I've decided. I'm not leaving this place until you come out."

She waited. Nothing answered her. No creature stirred in the shadows.

When she was about to give up and go home, a clear voice suddenly laughed softly and murmured, quite close to her ear: "You've been trying so hard to get a hold of me. What is it that you want?"

The girl glared back. "You know what I want. It's what I've always been asking for."

A cat was seated on the floor in front of her with its tail tucked neatly around its paws. It billowed a faint fog that vanished in the air, and her coat seemed to pulse a greyish-silver. Her eyes were the bluest of the blues, the color of the depths of the ocean.

The cat meowed, "I've already told you, haven't I?" Her eyes seemed to cloud over for a second, and then they became clear again.

The girl knitted her brow, frustrated. "I don't care," she replied back, her voice slightly trembling. "I need to go. Not for my sake. For _her's._"

"She is perfectly safe. There is no need to worry."

The girl shut the book with a loud clap of the pages, and a grey plume of dust bloomed in front of her. She sneezed, and throwing the book down next to her, rubbed her nose and protested, "I don't get it. You could've taken me instead of her. Why?"

The cat hesitated. "It's not because we favor her over you. No...I can't tell you this right now." She shook her head.

The girl crossed her arms. "Then I won't let you go until you do."

The cat laughed slightly. "You can't do that. I go where I want to go. But still..." She trailed off and blinked up at the human. She searched her eyes. They were dark brown and stern and set with determination, and after a long while of thinking, the silver cat seemed to deflate with her energy and looked down at her paws.

"I am the Moonpool," she murmured quietly. "I can open doors. Mirrors. Anywhere I want to go, I _can. _That's how I got here, and that's how you arrived here. I can drift through them safely and back again, as many times as I want, but for anyone other than me..." She paused. When she looked up again, her eyes were round and sorrowful. "You know the pain...it hurts when you go through one of my doors and you morph into a cat. It burns like fire, doesn't it?"

The girl nodded, remembering.

"If you pass through it too many times, your body begins to break. It shatters. It can't take the strain. And you've already done it way too many times already. This is the reason why StarClan had to choose another instead of you. It's not safe for you anymore."

The store seemed to grow quieter, as if the walls were listening. The girl was looking down at her hands. After a while, she stood up.

The cat gazed on questioningly.

The girl turned to her, and without wavering, said, "I don't care. Take me back."

The cat arched her back and hissed, "But don't you understand? I can't take you back! I can't let you pass through one more time. You'll die."

"I don't care," came the firm reply.

"What's the matter with you?" the feline spat. "Don't you care about your life?"

"Of course I do. But..." the girl trailed off, staring out of the dirt-smudged window, into the desolate streets beyond. A wind whistled in from a crack in the roof and whirled her hair, making it dance along her shoulders as if it had a mind of its own.

"There are just some things out there that are worth more," she finished. She grinned down at the feline. "And you can't guarantee that I'll die for certain, can you? Come on. Let me go one last time."

The cat stared up at her with wide, unblinking eyes. She didn't know what to say. The girl wasn't sure how she would respond. Would she be denied again?

The girl started in surprise when a laugh echoed around the room. It weaved its way across the beams like silk, brightening up the weathered place like a song.

The cat chuckled and mewed, "I see why Firestar was so quick to choose you. You've still got the fire burning within you. And I suppose that you still remember them...?"

"Of course I remember." Her voice was quieter, gentler. "How can I ever forget? But I suppose that _they've _forgotten me."

"Not so, my warrior. I can see it now. You miss them. You and the others-"

"I made a promise that I would return," the girl said. "I won't let them down."

"I might consider it. But although your fire still burns brightly, it is not what it used to be. Know that your prophecy is over already. You've completed what has been laid out for you, two years ago. Now it is _her _journey. You can't interfere."

The girl clenched her fists tightly. "You've made a mistake in taking her. Your world is dangerous. She'll die out there."

The cat hesitated. "That's where you're wrong."

"I want to be there to protect her. I have to keep her safe. And I also need to see my friends. So please, will you let me?"

The cat turned her head. "It'll hurt, you know, like always. There is a chance that your body will crumble and you will die."

"But if I stay here without ever going back, then I will regret it forever."

The Moonpool smiled softly and dipped her head. "Very well then," she rasped, and the young cat seemed almost to grow old and ancient.

She reached out and beckoned for the girl to stoop down. The girl blinked, and after a few seconds, craned her neck forward. She felt the brush of a tail on her forehead, and heart pounding, let a wave of blackness consume her.

It seemed that she was floating in darkness. Was this supposed to happen? She reached out with her arm and was startled to find that she couldn't see it. She couldn't even feel it. What was she then, just a brain floating in the middle of a vast ocean?

Her heart pounded in her ear. _Moon! Where are you?_

And then, in a burst of sudden light that seared her eyes and slashed into her like the sun in red-hot fury, something inside her seemed to explode in a shower of sparks.

It wrenched her gut and squeezed her every which way. She bit back her tongue and clenched her teeth. She was sure that she was bleeding. Her body had been ripped open! But even in her pain-blinded vision, she knew that she had to endure it.

How much more could she take? Maybe this was all a mistake. Maybe she really _was_ dying. A sudden fear suddenly grasp her and shook her to and fro, and her mind whirled and she wanted to vomit.

She felt like a truck had pounded into her skull, like needles had been inserted into her limbs, like she had been plastered with acid and then washed away with brine. Red and blue, cold and hot, tingling all over with a pins-and-needles feeling that ached.

And then, as suddenly as it had come, the feeling vanished, leaving behind an empty-headed dream of emptiness.

Ashley squinted her eyes open, backing away from the sudden brightness.

"You actually made it. You lived."

Ashley's eyes widened as she looked down at herself. Her black fur billowed in the harsh, biting wind. She had a tail too, a tail that quivered like thick wire. And her paws.

When she gazed up, she saw a glittering silver pool wreathed with leaves and bushes, outlined in stone. The bookstore had vanished, and so had Moon.

No, Moon was right there in front of her. Ashley peered down at the gently lapping water, and instead of her reflection, she saw two ocean-blue eyes staring up at her.

"Thank you," Ashley whispered gratefully.

She straightened up and stretched her lithe muscles that felt light and thin. She nuzzled her fur, lapped it and groomed it like how she used to. She was back. She was Shadefrost.

The cat stood up, climbing gracefully down from the rocks, but then stopped, startled, when she saw a withered root trailing down between her limbs.

She followed it with her eyes, backing away when they rested on the gnarled and twisted trunk of an old tree. It was bent and stooped like an old woman, its trail of leaves dipping limply into the water of the Moonpool. It pulsed weakly with a white light that died along with the sun.

"What happened to _you?" _she cried in disbelief. Running forward, she circled it, sniffed it, inspecting it. Was it sick? How could this happen? Wasn't this the Tree of Promise, as sacred as the Pool?

But she couldn't do anything about it right now. Maybe once she'd taken a look at the Clans, she could discover the answers. _I hope things haven't changed too much._

And then she was seized with a sudden fear. _What if they don't remember me? What if I don't recognize them?_

But she had to find Sam. Shaking her fur, she leaped down from the boulders and raced into the forest. Her fear was instantly replaced with an eager and light-hearted feeling of joy.

_I'm coming home! Hang in there! Dewstep! Ember! Spottedpaw! Wait for me!_


	12. Chapter 11-Let's Make Our Way Together

CHAPTER 11-Let's Find Our Way Together

I always knew when I was dreaming. I always could tell when all the outlines seemed blurry and the horizon was closer than it should be. A backward house. Sidewalk running uphill. Clouds floating in the garden. I didn't dream in colors, either. Everything was always in shades of black and white and the same greys as rainy days. I could almost taste the rain on my tongue just by looking up at the cloudless sky, although in my dreams, it never rained. The grass, the trees, the bushes, everything was shaded in with coal and jet. When I was younger, I used to think it was because that someone had taken a vacuum cleaner and had sucked all the colors away. My dreams always looked like the scenes from old, black-and-white photographs.

The only things that weren't grey, that weren't void of color, were the tulips. Always the tulips. They bobbed up and down on a hill the color of stone, bright and blazing against a whitewashed sky. They flickered as if they were made of fire: red, ruby, scarlet, the color of sunsets and ripe apples.

Why tulips, then? Why were they the only ones that had color? I never knew, and I never cared. I liked tulips anyway. The red in their petals were as warm as the hearth.

I always knew when I was dreaming. It wasn't hard to tell, really. The sun and the moon seemed connected together.

I was a little kid again, probably seven or eight, running along a path in the playground with an armful of blazing tulips. And I knew, right then, that I wasn't dreaming, but _remembering._

I had hazelnut curls that tickled the back of my ears and the slope of my neck. Short for my age, shorter than all the other kids. Skinny, too. Matchstick arms. My mother had always complained that I never ate enough.

I recognized this playground. It was the nearest one in my city, the one where I begged my parents to take me to nearly every week. It had a slide and monkey bars. A swing set, but I didn't know how to kick my feet up and lean myself back so that I could fly on it, at least not until later. Wood chips were scattered around on the bottom in place of sand. And everything was grey, naturally. Only the tulips in my arms burned intensely with fire.

And why was I running? I didn't remember the reason. Maybe it was because I was eager to be the first on the slide before everyone else.

I stopped, almost tripping on my two clunky, clumsy feet, and stared blanky, holding the stupid tulips tight to my chest because I was afraid that the wind would tear them away and I'd have to stoop down and pick all of them up all over again.

I stopped because I saw that I wasn't the first one up on the slide. I wasn't the second or the third, either.

There were a group of boys climbing and sliding on top of it. More like tumbling, maybe, like a pack of bear cubs romping and whoofing all over each other. Laughing, having fun together. They were my age, around seven or eight, and I even recognized one or two as the annoying brats in my neighborhood. And I knew that they wouldn't let me even an inch near the slide, much less go down it.

Pouting, I turned to leave, but I suddenly heard one of them shout, "Where ya goin', girly? Aren't you forgetting something?"

Clenching my fists, I shifted back to face him, shout back, maybe even give him a good clout or two on the nose, and realized that he wasn't yelling at _me. _He was hollering at _her. _All of them, the whole pack of cubs.

They had her surrounded. Jeering, laughing, teasing, like a flock of high-pitched crows. Pointing too, with messy fingers.

I didn't even _know _the girl. She was probably new to the city. The boys were yelling rubbish at her, stuff that didn't really mean anything except to give them a good laugh. The words weren't even insults, not really. They were phrases like 'mute-face' and 'big-nose'. Stupid and dumb. If any of them said that to me, I would have ignored him. Or, at least I would've given him a nice punch in the gut and then left.

But I could tell that the girl wasn't taking it very well. She wasn't even doing anything. Just standing there like a statue, staring down at her feet with her hands clenched behind her, as if she were afraid to look any of them in the eye. And all the while the boys kept spitting and hollering. I didn't get why she was just standing there. She had fists, didn't she? Why didn't she hit them? She had feet, too. Why didn't she kick dust at them? And she had a mouth. She could just talk back and say even meaner things. But she didn't. The girl looked like a mouse surrounded by biting snakes. Her hair was covering her eyes so I couldn't see her face, but I could tell, by the barely-noticable trembling of her shoulders, that she was crying.

"Hey!" I yelled, before I even knew what I was doing. Kicking up my heels, I sprinted toward the group, turned my hand into a white-knuckled fist, and made it connect into the first face I saw.

He cried out, more in surprise than in pain, and stumbled a few steps backward, clutching his nose. All of the jeering stopped, as if a blanket of silence had settled over all of them.

I planted my feet firmly in front of the girl, mustering up the scariest face I could make. "Go pick on someone your own size!" I shouted, waving my little fist dangerously. "Leave her alone!"

Edgar, one of my neighbors, stepped forward and stuck out his tongue. "Make me, then! Dummy!"

"Who're you callin' a dummy? Your feet are so big that you can cut the grass just by walking barefoot!"

"Oh, yeah? Well, your ears are so ginormous that you can make Dumbo jealous!"

"If you put your face by a door, nobody would ever come in."

"Your breath smells so bad, even the skunks run away!"

"You're so ugly that if you threw a boomerang, it would never come back!"

"Fatty!"

"Stupid-head!"

"Pignose!"

"Buttface!"

I stopped mid-sentence when I heard something that I least expected to hear.

Someone was giggling, and it wasn't one of the boys.

It was only a slight noise. As quiet as a whisper. But it was the girl. The wind had blown back her hair so that I could see her face for the first time. Her eyes were puffy and red, so she _had _been crying earlier.

"Hey, you!" I said. "What's up with that? First you're sad, and now you're laughing?"

Trevor, another one of the neighborhood boys I knew, taunted, "Maybe it's because she saw how funny-looking you were! Your face is so hideous that no one came looking for you when you were playing hide-and-seek!"

I sniffed indignantly. "Oi, shut up! That's not true!"

"Prove it then!"

"Wha-? How the heck am I supposed to prove that?"

"See! That just shows that you _are_ ugly!"

"Shut up!"

"Make me!" He threw a light punch on my shoulder, not hard enough to hurt or anything, but enough to push me back a few paces.

I gritted my teeth and fumed, "You wanna go, then?"

"Come at me!"

Stepping forward with as much strength as I could muster, I raised my fist and rammed it into his stomach. His eyes bulged out, and a few seconds later, he was squirming on the ground like a worm, his arms clutching his waist.

"Ow!" he cried. "I didn't know you were serious, lady!"

Everyone else had stepped a few paces back, eyes wide in surprise. I spun around to face them. "What are you staring at, jerks? Go home!"

One of them suddenly turned almost as white as a sheet and gasped, "Tr-Trevor! You're bleeding!"

He was, but it was only a patch on his knee. He must have scraped it when I pummeled him into the ground.

He stood up on shaky legs, his face a deep grey, and screamed, "You're going to pay for this, Sam! I-I mean it!" There was a catch in his voice. Without saying any more, he turned and fled away from the playground, over the hill until I couldn't see him anymore.

I raised my fist and eyed the other kids angrily. "What are you guys waiting around for? Do you want me to give you bloody noses?"

They hesitated, glancing at each other, not sure whether to run away like Trevor or stay and fight. Finally, one of the smaller ones broke down and cried, "Monster! I'm telling your mom!" and turned and ran off with his tail between his legs.

One by one, the rest followed suit.

"Monster!"

"Beast!"

"Crazy girl!"

Pretty soon, I was the only one left in the park along with the girl. I turned to her, my brow knitted in frustration. She was staring expectantly up at me. I didn't realize it before, but she was a bit shorter than me, probably by a few centimeters. But I was sure that we were almost the same age.

She wasn't doing anything, just staring at me with big, brown owl eyes. She wasn't laughing anymore either.

Maybe I scared her? She was probably too terrified of me to run away.

I sighed, my shoulders sagging, my fists unclenching. I was ready for her to burst into tears and run off like the others, but to my surprise, she smiled shyly.

I glared at her. "See, you got me into trouble. They'll go and tell their parents what happened, and then their parents'll tell my parents. I'll be grounded again, maybe for a year this time. See what you did? You big ninny."

Her smile didn't break. She grinned up at me with a smile that was a brighter shade of white.

I sighed again. Maybe she didn't get what I was saying. I held out a hand and looked away. "You're probably new here, so I'll let this slide. Just make sure you don't go near those boys again. You don't know what they'll do next time. So, I'm Sam. Who're you?"

She stared at my hand for a second or two, but didn't shake it. The girl was just standing there as still as a stone. What was she, stupid? I bet that if I just left her right now, she'll still be standing here for the next twenty years.

"Helloo?" I asked, tapping her head with my knuckle. "Anything in there? You can hear me, right?"

She was giggling again. The tapping made a sharp noise against her skull.

I stopped and stood back with an exaspperated look. What should I do? Could I just leave her here and run off?

Suddenly remembering a question that was bothering me, I asked, "How come you didn't do anything when they were picking on you? Don't you know how to throw a punch?" I made my hands into fists again and swiped them into the air, throwing them against an imaginary opponent.

She blinked two times with a blank look.

"Come on, try it. It's easy. If you learn how to do it, then no one'll dare come near you ever again."

When I saw that she wasn't going to try, I reluctantly grasped her limp wrists in mine and tried to curl her fingers into a fist.

"Right! Just like that. Now raise them in front of your face."

She hesitated, lingering on indecision, and finally did what she was told to.

"That's perfect. Now, here comes the hard part. Give me a few jabs. Come on, just do it. Show me what you got."

Nothing happened. Her fists were half-clenched, half-limp in front of her face, hovering there as if she didn't know what to do with them.

Slowly, she lowered them and let them rest by her side, and when she stared up at me again, her dark brown eyes were troubled.

I suddenly grew concerned. "What's wrong? Did they hurt you?"

I inspected her, checked her fingers, her arms, lifting them up and peering into her eyes. "I didn't see them punch you or anything."

The girl shook her head slightly. Oh, so she wasn't dumb then.

"What's the matter?" Honestly, talking to her was like talking to a boulder.

She dug her toes into the dirt, making little smudges. Finally, after a few more minutes of staring down at her feet and twirling her hair shyly with her fingers, she straightened up and pointed at a tree.

I followed her gaze. Half hidden behind the leaves was a kite that I didn't notice before. It was the same color as the tree, dangling half out of sight, its tail tangled into the branches and the string curled into it like a mess of spider webs.

I poked her head sharply with my finger, annoyed. "Seriously, kid, you need to pay more attention. Getting your kite stuck in a tree? Geez, you're lucky that I'm here to help you out." I was seriously pissed off at this weird girl right now. Even between my rantings and seethings, she was still gazing at me with this innocent, shy look in her eyes. She could make the world turn over with that gaze. Finally, heaving my shoulders, I let the annoyance steam out of my ears and stomped over to the tree.

Shielding my eyes from the cold sun, I peered up at the towering heights of the tree. The kite whipped back and forth on its perch like a drowning bird, imprisoned by a single strand of thread wound tight across the branch. With a sharp intake of air, I leaped onto the trunk and wrapped my arms around it, clutching it as tight as I could. Digging my nails into the wood, I clenched my teeth and wriggled my way up, slowly yet surely. I had climbed trees before. This was a piece of cake. It almost felt natural.

I inched my way up, one limb at a time, extending my arms forward to drag my legs up with me. I grazed my fingers over the whorls in the wood, the creases and the cracks in the old weathered face. The ridges and swirls almost felt like the ripples in petrified water.

The stuck kite dangled in front of my face, just a few inches within my grasp. It fluttered a little as I neared, as if it was happy to see me. I reached toward it. Just a little further!

All of a sudden, with a sigh of the troublesome wind, the foot beneath me slipped a few inches downward like a slug. I scrabbled for a firm grasp, panic suddenly lighting inside me like a flame. Don't look down! No matter what happens, just don't look down!

I was beginning to slip. My toes were uncurling. They were sliding down, inch by agonizing inch, like a raindrop oozing down a windowpane. At the last second, I lurched forward and made a wild grab for the kite. My fingers grazed the cloth just barely, and then the tree flew up from underneath me, and suddenly, all I could see was the wide, cloudless sky. The sky was grey too. Its expanse filled the corners of my vision until it was all I could see. My heart pounded wildly in my heart like a drumbeat and I could hear the wild singing of the pulse in my ears, something flitting and sharp waking up in my chest like an alarmed bird opening up its wings for flight.

With a whoosh of air, a short gasp, without even any time to cry out, I landed with a jarring thud on my back that echoed from my spine to my feet and left me crashing in a dazed heap. My thoughts whirled around like crumpled leaves blown by the wind and finally came floating down toward me after a few good seconds. Sitting up, I held my forehead and groaned. There was going to be a nasty swelling behind it tomorrow. I flexed my feet and legs, rubbing my back that still stung from the impact from the fall. The kite still dangled from the tree branch. It peered down at me from the leaves, mocking me. I glared back.

And then I remembered the weird girl. Looking around furiously, I spat, "Hey, you!" I stopped myself, the words half-formed on my tongue, thinking what to call her. I didn't know her name. I'd never asked. And calling her a 'dim-wit' or a 'good-for-nothing' would be too harsh. I'd just make her cry again. As I fumed inside my head, making up insults and names and thinking of what I'd do once I got my hands on her, I blinked and looked up when I heard the whispering of grass slapping against rushing feet.

I opened my mouth, determined to give her a good lashing for all the trouble she'd put me through, but then stopped in surprise. My eyes widened.

She grinned as she held up an armful of red tulips. Rust-colored, carmine, ruby and scarlet, their lightly frayed petals and stems rustled gently in the breeze, fluttering slightly as if they were alive, like wings. They burned as steadily as flame against the grainy black and white background.

My insults were suddenly forgotten. I gently pulled one out of her arms, and without warning, the whole bundle loosened and splashed out onto my lap in a flurry of bright crimson. Their fragrance billowed into the air.

I must have dropped them when I'd confronted the boys.

Gazing up at her, I asked, "You like tulips too?"

"Mm-hmm." Closing her eyes, she smiled and nodded.

"Yeah. I guess that's one thing we both like. And we both hate those idiot boys."

Her smile vanished. Wrinkling up her eyebrows, she quickly shook her head.

I raised an eyebrow. "What? You mean you don't hate them even after what they did to you?"

The kid pointed at me. "S'alright. I forgive them. You saved me."

"Oh. So you can talk after all."

I was about to say something else before she suddenly opened her eyes wide and announced in a small voice, "Thank you!"

I almost turned as red as the tulips. "H-hey," I stammered awkwardly. "You were too weak to save yourself, so of course I had to pitch in. They would've done much worse things if I hadn't."

I picked up the fallen tulips and gathered them into my arms. Their sweet smell wafted into my nose. As we strolled down the hill, side-by-side with me being a little taller than her, she told me that her name was Ashley. Her family had just moved in yesterday.

She wasn't supposed to tell me a whole lot about her life. We had just met, after all, and so we were still just strangers, even if I did know her name. She told me a lot more.

I am seven years old, she said, and she had had her birthday last month in January. Something in my heart began to stir when I realized that we were both the same age. We would both be in the same grade, maybe even in the same class.

But she still didn't feel like a Seven, the girl told me. She still felt like a Six. Sometimes it took a few more months, maybe even half a year, before the Seven began to grow on you and you feel older. Birthdays came in layers.

Like cake? I asked, and she giggled. It made the thing in my heart stir even more, a warm feeling. Like cake, she agreed. The birthdays all had layers like cake. The past years grow old and peel off so that the new ones could take its place, and it could take a long time for that to happen.

The girl's name was Ashley, she was seven years old, her birthday was last month in January, she liked sweet things and tulips, her favorite color was pink, (although she wanted it to be a secret because everyone said that pink was too girly of a color. I disagreed. Colors are like moods, I told her. Sometimes you feel pink, sometimes you feel blue, sometimes red, and sometimes yellow. Sometimes even a mix of everything, like the rainbow.)she liked popsicles (the purple ones best), root beer floats, fairy tales, believed in aliens and Bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster.

She told me she cried on her birthday (but she wouldn't say why).

As we dangled our feet in the pond in my backyard, she asked me what color I was feeling today. I told her purple with yellow spots. She laughed. The funny feeling in my chest grew warmer and fluttered like a butterfly. We shared the tulips together.

I met her on a Saturday. On Monday, I sat next to her in first grade because she was the only one who didn't know how to spell 'mule' and I had to help her put the letters together like jigsaw puzzle pieces.

She scratched in pictures of blocky-pawed cats in the margins and I crayoned them in: pink for her, and purple with yellow spots for me. We hid in the playground during recess and giggled into our sleeves when the teacher had to come outside to look for us when the bell rang.

I remembered giving my jacket to her on the playground one time because it was windy and she was cold. We shared our lunch together.

Yesterdays, tomorrows, months, then years. It was in fourth grade when we worked together on a homework assignment.

Write a metaphor, the teacher said. About anything. A book you read, or something you feel, or about your life, even.

Ashley scribbled down: _Rain makes everything wet and muddy. I like it when it rains, but sometimes my friend splashes into puddles and we both get our socks wet. Here where I live, it rains so much that if I were a cup, I would be filled to the very top and my _

Woah there, I told her, to tell her that it wasn't even close to a metaphor, and where did you get all the ideas in your head? But I was also a bit impressed that all of her thoughts could whizz down into her brain as easily as moths to a lamplight.

I told her what a metaphor was because she hadn't been listening in class.

Concentrating intently, she measured the sentences and snipped them with scissors and jot them all down onto the paper with a ruler and a calculator that was her brain.

_Rain makes everything muddy. It rains so much in my old city that my clothes were always soaking and my life was filled to the very top with rain. _

Shorter, I said. More metaphor-y.

She concentrated hard.

_My life is rain._

That's just it, I said, but then she scrunched up her eyes and began erasing everything from top to bottom all over again.

I shouted, Hey, and yanked the eraser from her hand, trying to smooth out the paper as best as I could. What are you doing? I exclaimed. You got it right.

No, it's wrong, she replied, because she had moved to a new place and now her life isn't rain anymore.

I was beginning to get annoyed. We had only spent the past thirty minutes on one assignment, and it was getting dark and I wanted to go out to the park with her again.

If your life isn't rain anymore, I asked her crossly, then what is it now?

Rainbow, she said, and tulips and sand all thrown in, and purple with yellow spots and cats and skirts and nothing but rainbow, rainbow, rainbow.

She said that her old city had not one drop of purple and yellow in it. It was mostly blue and black.

But now, here...

I stared at her in silence, not sure what to say.

She told me that she had cried on her seventh birthday because it was raining with thunder and she was scared and alone. The lightning had swallowed up the electricity so the rooms were as dark as black, and there wasn't any yellow even if she had tried to flick the switches.

I told her that I had cried on my ninth birthday, and I added that it was a secret too.

Why? she asked.

Because. Because I had fists of steel and a shield made out of iron and a dagger in my tongue, but sometimes my metal turns to nothing but jelly and I don't want to be Sam anymore, I want to switch minds and lives with someone else and just walk in an empty desert with no people and be anyone but me.

Sometimes I don't feel like purple with yellow spots, I told her. Sometimes I feel black and blue like rain, like rooms with no light in them and I hide under the bed.

"But Sam," Ashley said, tipping her head to one side. "What's wrong with being Sam? Why do you want to be someone else?"

"You don't know me," I snapped back. "I'm failing in everything. I get Cs and Ds and big fat Fs. My teacher hates me. Mostly everyone does. They don't like me at all. I've been sent to the principal more times than I can count. My parents fight over everything. I'm mad at everything there is to be mad about. I've got monsters under my bed, ghosts in my room. There is a skeleton hiding in the closet and I don't know how to fish him out. Everything is wrong. I can't do anything right. I want to burn my whole closet down to the ground."

Sam, she said, and after a deep breath, I calmed down a little although there was still a riot inside me, and I told her that it was okay, that I could get through it on my own and she didn't need to worry.

She leaned over and hugged me even though I had told her a thousand times that I didn't like hugs. She squeezed me like a teddy bear and the riot in my heart thudded into nothing but a dull beat.

That happened in the fourth grade, around six years ago. The ghosts and skeletons had long fled from my room or simply vanished, but the beast under my bed wouldn't budge. He just loitered there, sometimes staying under my bed, sometimes moving into my closet, and sometimes he stared back at me when I peered at myself in the mirror. The monster looked like me, and I knew that he wasn't leaving anytime soon.

As I grew older, the monster grew bigger too. I tried to ignore him, but how could I when I wore his skin? Not to mention the fact that he kept me awake at night.

And, as I got older, I realized that I didn't just want to burn the closet to the ground. I wanted to burn the bed too, and my room, and possibly even the whole house and maybe the monster too. If Ashley's life was rain, then mine was fire.

Bullies in school always targeted me. 'Monster', they taunted. 'Beast'. But then the cowards just hid behind the principal when I tried to punch the smug grins off their faces.

I looked like a beast too. Gangly limbs. Spidery brown hair. I kept my crazy locked up tight in my closet, in the rug, but it threatened to overflow. I tried to starve the monster in my room, but it only grew bigger. It moved from my closet to the windowsill.

And when _it_ happened in my first year in high school, the beast gurgled and danced and sang a bloodcurdling song. I wanted to give up then, maybe feed myself to the beast.

But Ashley stood by me through all the years. She never left me. I was outgoing and managed to win over a group of people, but Ashley was still the real friend that I still had. She still gave me hugs. She still liked the color pink, and she still believed in aliens and Bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster.

Me, not so much. But the tulips were still red.

Pity, now that I remembered, I never did thank her for everything she'd done. But, at least, I had left my crazy behind in my house, locked up tight in the closet. I hope that by coming here to the Clans, that by finally living my dream in the wild and leaving my past behind, I can forget about everything and become a different person like I'd wanted to.

I hope Ashley doesn't think that I'm dead or anything. But I hope that she misses me.

Because I miss her the most of all.

OooOOOoOoOooOoOOoOoOoOoooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOo

"Stormpaw, wake up." A sharp paw was prodding me in the ribs. It tickled.

I rolled over, my eyes still closed, and swatted my claw at him. "G'away," I mumbled. "Sleep."

The dusty smell of warm moss was too enticing to let go. I didn't want to be dragged out of bed just yet.

Scorchpaw gave an exaggerated sigh. I could imagine the ginger and white tom pawing at his nose in frustration.

Finally, he called, "Silverpaw, come over here! Use your warm and kind way of waking her up, since she won't listen to me anyway."

"Okay!"

I heard the scrabbling of eager paws over moss and a surge of air, and before I knew it, I was on my back with my eyes wide open, my legs haphazardly sprawled out in every direction.

A very excited light grey tabby was bouncing on my stomach. Her blue eyes filled my vision as she leaned in closely.

"Rise and shine, fuzzbrain! No time to be lazy today," she chirped brightly. "We're getting training from Bramblestar himself. He says that we need to be extra-extra ready in case we have to fight WindClan."

"Don't remind me," I groaned. The training that Dewstep had given me the day before had left me with aches and pains in my muscles. And Silverpaw wasn't making it any better by yelling in my ear and jumping up and down on my stomach like a rubber ball.

"Oof! Get off! Off!" I shouted as I shoved her away. She rolled onto the moss with a laugh.

I grinned. "Seriously, though, you're as heavy as an elephant. How many mice do you eat every morning?"

She sat up and blinked. "What's an...elphan?"

I waved her away. "It's nothing. Just get going already, we don't want to be late."

"That's what I was going to say to _you!"_

"Enough," Scorchpaw grunted. He narrowed his eyes when he peered at me, the irises turning from verdant to a smoky green in an instant. He huffed and eyed me in a way that made me feel as if I was inferior somehow.

The tom meowed crossly in exasperation, "Stormpaw, your fur is sticking up all over the place," in a tone that reminded me of someone scolding an immature kit. "Honestly, when was the last time you've groomed yourself?"

I shrugged. "Sorry." I never bothered with it.

He stared at me for a few more moments before leaning in and rasping his tongue over a tuft sticking out on my ear.

"Hey!" I protested, but was silenced when he growled, "Stay still. What'll Bramblestar think when he sees you looking like you tumbled off a hill?"

"Wolfpaw's already waiting for us outside," Silverpaw chimed in.

I crinkled my nose as Scorchpaw groomed me. "But where's Featherpaw?" I asked. Her nest was empty, and her scent was stale.

She shrugged. "No idea. She wanders off every now and then. How much longer are you going to take, Scorchpaw? Come on, lets _go!"_

"Alright, alright," he mewed, flicking his tail across my nose when he couldn't get a piece of my fur to lay down _just right_, and then the three of us trotted outside the den with Silverpaw bounding in the lead.

I did notice that it was a warm, sunny day despite the oncoming winter. The sun melted onto the boulders in butter, and I could almost taste it as it dripped down in yellow and gold. Even the ground seemed to glow with a hidden warmth deep underneath the sparse grass.

The trees were all bare now, their branches woven tight above their heads in crowns, some so thin that they seemed like fingers reaching up to grasp the sky. A few skeletal leaves still hung on the twigs, rugged and beaten up by the harsh wind.

Wolfpaw was waiting in the clearing with her head down and her tail tucked neatly around her paws. She glanced up as we neared, then acknowledged us with a nod.

I asked, "Have you seen Featherpaw?" I swear, that apprentice made me worry a lot. Sometimes I even go days without seeing her around. The rumors of war probably made her antsy.

She shook her head.

"Are you apprentices ready now?" Bramblestar's deep rumble of a voice snapped me out of my thoughts as he padded toward us. His smooth muscles rippled under his dark brown pelt. Although he was strong enough to chase badgers off of his territory, the muscles made him look sleeker instead of bulky, with enough in his shoulders to broaden his chest. The darker stripes running down his back reminded me of a tiger's.

Really, when we had such a strong leader as him on our side, what was there to worry about? We'd win either way. Those scrawny WindClan cats wouldn't last a chance with us.

He nodded, then crouched down, his movements smooth. "Right, Wolfpaw," he mewed. "Forepaw slash, paws sheathed. Show me what your mentor taught you."

The she-cat hunched down until her belly brushed the ground. She wasn't nearly as big as Bramblestar, but the muscles hidden beneath her blue-grey fur still boasted strength that almost matched his. The white slash on her chest looked like a curved claw.

I held my breath as she held her position. Her blue eyes had instantly become calculating, glittering like two hardened blue sheaths of ice.

Without warning, she darted forward as an arrow and lashed out with her front paw. She had instantly transformed into an adder, her paw as the head poised to strike, no, striking already with speed that matched a blue lightning bolt, gleaming so fast that my eyes could barely keep up with the blur. Wolfpaw's moves were amazing! Her paw was dancing in the air with a war tune.

But, no matter how fast she moved, Bramblestar was faster. He was always one step ahead of her.

She aimed for his face, but he shifted quickly to one side. Blocking her strike, he grabbed hold of her paw and crushed it to the ground, holding it in place before leaning over and grasping her scruff in his teeth.

The whole thing had only taken a few seconds. He could easily wrench her scruff to flip her over onto her back, exposing her vulnerable belly. Instead, the dark brown tom loosened his grasp and nodded.

"You did well, Wolfpaw," he rumbled, satisfied. "Your movements were quick and precise. I can see that you've learned well." Wolfpaw nodded, her expression level.

"But," he continued, "I managed to gain the upper hand. If I was the enemy, I would have snapped your neck instead of holding your scruff. Just remember, if that ever happens in a real battle, go limp for a few seconds. That'll trick him into thinking that you've given up. Then, when he's distracted, wrench yourself swiftly out of his grip in one movement."

The blue-grey she-cat dipped her head in understanding and then retreated back to where we were watching.

"You were amazing, Wolfpaw!" Silverpaw beamed happily. "You were so quick!"

I nodded in agreement. "How are you so strong?" I asked.

Scorchpaw mewed, "She's the oldest one among all of the apprentices, so naturally she's tougher and more mature. And-"

There was a quiet scuffling of paw steps that grew closer with every second.

"Featherpaw!" I exclaimed in surprise.

The white she-cat padded forward silently. I couldn't tell where she had been. She looked the same as always. Acknowledging me with a small wave of her tail, she settled down beside me. Scorchpaw scooted over to give her more room.

Without pausing, Bramblestar beckoned with his tail. "You're up, Scorchpaw. Show me everything you've learned."

Scorchpaw, too, was a formidable attacker. When he bared his teeth and snarled, I could barely recognize him. He became as ferocious as a badger when he swung his paws around to meet his opponent, even managing to make Bramblestar back away and corner him against a wall.

How were they all so strong? There was no way I could even compare to them! If Scorchpaw was a wolf, then I was no more than a mouse.

"My turn!" Silverpaw announced as she bounced eagerly up to face Bramblestar.

I leaned over to Featherpaw and whispered, "Where were you this morning? Did Ivypool pen you up again?"

Her laurel eyes were impassive. She shrugged her shoulders,an answer that didn't mean anything.

I thought I could detect a faint whiff of leaf mold on her. Had she been hanging out in the woods?

"Stormpaw!" Bramblestar meowed. I sighed and dragged my limp paws over to meet him.

I started out well, sliding underneath his belly and yanking his tail to unbalance him, but then he pounded me completely into the dust for the second half of the round.

I heaved myself to my paws, panting, grimacing at the grainy feel of sand buried in my pelt and sneezing from the dust.

"Not too bad," Bramblestar mused.

Yeah, and by 'not too bad', he actually meant 'wow, you really sucked'. I was small fry compared to the others.

As the leader began his next lecture, I suddenly interrupted, "Wait a minute. Featherpaw didn't have a chance to go yet."

Bramblestar broke off and gazed at me with a peculiar expression on his face.

Scorchpaw coughed awkwardly while Wolfpaw glanced away. Featherpaw just stared at me with her tail around her paws. She bored holes into the back of my skull.

Silverpaw piped up,"Oh, yeah, you're still a bit new here so no one told you. Briarlight said that we shouldn't make Featherpaw practice too hard. It'll strain her body."

I flattened my ears. "Please don't tell me that this has something to do with her throat."

Scorchpaw said, "Not really, but you know, the medicine cat said that she can't push her body too hard. There was something that went wrong with her body when she was born, so she can't talk, and that means that the rest of her body is frail too, and..." He was rambling now.

It was because, I realized, they were all afraid for Featherpaw's safety. Featherpaw didn't have long to live. Her body wasn't strong enough. I could imagine Ivypool flinging up her paws dramatically and wailing something about Featherpaw keeling over in the middle of training or something like that.

But Featherpaw didn't look weak at all. In fact, she looked perfectly healthy, save for the fact that she couldn't talk.

Bramblestar cleared his throat and asked politely, "Featherpaw, if you feel like you're up to it, then maybe we could practice a few moves together."

I could imagine him thinking, _Great StarClan, please don't let her suddenly collpase from fatigue! Maybe I should bring one of the medicine cats over to supervise the session?_

I made eye contact with Featherpaw, and instantly, knew that she was thinking the same thing as me. She rolled her eyes at Bramblestar and sighed.

Luckily, we didn't dwell too much on the subject.

Silverpaw abruptly perked up and asked, "Bramblestar, how come we have to train so hard now everyday? Every cat is really worried over WindClan's threat. But we didn't kill anyone. And aren't all the warriors strong enough to defend the camp?"

"Yeah," I added. "I don't see why everyone is making such a big deal over it."

The leader's gaze suddenly darkened, as if a shadow had swallowed up the sun.

"We train," he meowed,"because it is our duty to protect the Clan. The queens, kits, and elders all need us. I know the WindClan cats are gangly and thin, and they certainly don't look like they have any strength in them, but that's where you're wrong. Looks are decieving. They are tough, tougher than you can imagine. We mustn't underestimate them or call down our guard." He raised his head to stare up at the sky. It was a pale blue, a lighter grey gradient coming up from the horizon, dotted with spottless white clouds. His gaze hardened. "Death and grief can do a lot to motivate one's soul. WindClan has a reason to fight; they think that we slaughtered one of their queens. Once they've found a reason, they won't back down."

"But we're plenty strong!" Silverpaw protested. She puffed out her chest. "ThunderClan has the best warriors!"

"It takes more than strength to make a true warrior," Bramblestar said as he gazed down at her fondly. "You'll understand when you're older."

Of course strength isn't everything, I thought. That much was obvious. Strength was meaningless if you didn't have courage.

Startled, I leaped out of my skin when someone bellowed, "Bramblestar!"

Squirrelflight came surging down the slope in a flash of fire.

Instantly, Bramblestar's voice became tight. "What is it?" he demanded.

What was happening? Squirrelflight looked as if she had traveled the whole length of the forest and back.

The deputy announced, "Our border patrol found two WindClan warriors on our territory."

My eyes widened. I could feel the alarm sparking through all of our pelts.

She paused to gather up her breath, and then continued, "No, don't look too surprised. It's nothing serious. They're just apprentices: Slightpaw and Oatpaw. But we still have to act quick. They told the patrol that someone had been chasing them across the moor, which was how they ended up on our territory. Do you think..." Her voice trialed off, but we could all guess the same thing.

The murderer was on the move again.

"But in the daylight?" Scorchpaw's tone was unusually unsteady. "And so close to our camp? The killer, I mean. What if he's making his way here right as we speak?"

My heart quickened its pace. Was he coming over here to kill us all?

Bramblestar had remained silent, deep in thought, but when he glanced up again, his face was grim. "No," he mewed, and his voice was dangerous. "The killer was targeting the two apprentices. He wouldn't have a reason to come to ThunderClan in the first place if he was only after the WindClan cats. Squirrelflight, where are Slightpaw and Oatpaw right now?"

The deputy's head snapped up, and she answered without hesitation, "In a ravine next to the old thunderpath. The border patrol is herding them back to their own territory as we speak."

"Great StarClan! That close?"

He straightened up and meowed in a hurried tone, "I'll go out there and deal with it myself. Squirrelflight, you take care of the camp until I get back."

"You're going by yourself?" I cried in dismay. "You can't fight him on your own!"

With cold ice stretching down my spine, I remembered the red slash glittering on Moleclaw's neck like a twisted crescent moon. Whoever the murderer was, he-or she-had been vicious enough to tear the life out of two cats with only a single slash.

He replied grimly, "I'll be taking half of the warriors with me. Whoever he is, he certainly shouldn't be underestimated. And besides, I made it my duty to face him."

He prowled forward, his amber eyes flickering dangerously. They darkened into shadows. His voice had grown deeper as well, rumbling like thunder in its wake. "I have to face him, once and for all," he growled again. "So that Moleclaw can rest in peace."

He turned to Squirrelflight. "Watch the camp for me," he meowed, and just like that, he was gone. We gazed on after him as he sped away from the clearing, his paws heaving up fallen leaves after him. They fluttered dryly and lifelessly down in wide spirals.

Silverpaw crouched behind Wolfpaw. "Will he be safe?" she whimpered. Wolfpaw leaned down to touch noses with her.

Bramblestar disappeared out of the gorse tunnel. After a few more heartbeats, Squirrelflight turned to us and meowed, "Don't worry about him. He knows how to take care of himself. And besides, he's got his warriors with him." She paused, and then continued, "Wolfpaw and Silverpaw, go and guard the entrance. Tell Icecloud to accompany you." In an instant, her panicked look from before was replaced with an air of authority that only a deputy could possess. "Dovewing and Toadstep are already beginning the task of reinforcing the thorn barrier, so Scorchpaw will help them." Scorchpaw nodded firmly and raced off to fulfill his duty.

"Stormpaw and Featherpaw, you two will tend to the elders. Change their bedding and make sure that they won't go hungry."

I immediatley protested, "But that's not fair!"

Squirrelflight raised an eyebrow. "How?"

"Everyone else gets to help out in preparing for the battle. How come Featherpaw and I have to take care of the elders?"

"I don't have time for your nonsense," Squirrelflight held a warning in her tone. Her green eyes hardened into emeralds. "Seeing to the elders is as important as anything else. Now go! I have important things to do as well." Without another word, she spun around and bounded over to the cliffs.

I sighed irritably, my tail lashing to and fro. Turning away with a huff, I meowed, "Come on, Featherpaw." The she-cat's ears quickly perked up, and there was almost a glimmer of eagerness in her eyes. We made our way over to the elders' den, a damp, cool space underneath a clump of trailing nettles that promised shade in the summer and collected heat in the colder months.

We pushed our way past the screen of nettles and paused at the entrance. The little light that filtered through brightened the corners of the den, but everything else was draped in shadow. Frostfire's white pelt stood out brightly against the darkness. Her fur glittered like snow, almost seeming like it glowed. Purdy was curled up further away from her, and by his snores, I could tell that he was fast asleep. His coat, thick now for the oncoming leaf-bare, was as matted and tangled as ever, like coils of rope wound around and around into a bundle of course hairs.

Frostfire sneezed and opened a slit of her eye to watch us.

"What do you two want now?" she asked. Normally she was cross and short-tempered, never bothering herself with the younger cats, but today, she was in kind of a good mood. At least she wasn't snapping at us like she usually did.

I spoke up, since Featherpaw couldn't. "Squirrelflight sent us over to do some stuff for you. Do you need anything or what?"

"Watch your manners, youngster," came the quick reply, although her tone wasn't as sharp as usual. "Show more respect toward your elders."

I shrugged again. "Well, if you don't need anything..."

I halted when Frostfire mewed, "Yes, I actually do want you to tell me something. Onestar had declared war on us, hasn't he? Tell me that my ears weren't playing tricks on me."

I replied, "Yeah. Over a dead queen."

She flicked her ear with a bored expression. "Ah, yes. I remember now. That skirmish a few weeks ago. WindClan hasn't quieted down yet, have they? Squirrelflight had raced into the camp as if her tail was on fire just a few minutes ago."

Was this her attempt at striking a conversation? Well, I wasn't interested. I shifted my weight from one paw to the other awkwardly.

Featherpaw glared at me and rested her tail tip on my shoulder. I could tell, just by her green gaze, what she was thinking: _Stop. Show more respect._

"You don't look very concerned, Stormpaw," Frostfire continued. "Does this battle mean so very little to you?"

I shrugged. "I'm not really worried," I admitted. "Aren't the warriors strong enough to fend off WindClan? I know that ThunderClan will win just like always." I remembered the training from before, with Wolfpaw swinging her claws as if they were adders and Scorchpaw fighting as if there was a lion inside him. Not to mention how amazingly tough Bramblestar was.

The elder grinned, revealing her cracked, yellow teeth. Some of them were missing. "Aye, I can see that you've at least got pride for your Clan. I admire that in a youngster. But, you see, even if ThunderClan will win, I wonder what we will lose in the process?"

I stopped and blinked. "Lose?"

"Aye. Our dignity. Lives, even."

I snorted. "Those scrawny WindClan kits don't stand a chance against us."

"Battles are strange things, in more ways than one. Even if you win, you still lose in some way. I pray to StarClan that this one will be quick and painless." She straightened up. "But I'm trying to tell you something. I know you haven't been here for very long, and you're still training to become a warrior. But you should never take any war lightly. You don't know what it feels like to be on a battlefield. What it feels like to see everything unfold before you. I hope that you will soon learn what it's like to truly fight for what you believe in."

I furrowed my brow. "What are you trying to say?"

"Just teachin' you not to underestimate anything. Even the smallest bird can have the sharpest beak in the flock. WindClan might not look it, but they've got rain in their bones and bark in their bodies. Take care not to hurt yourself."

I flicked my tail. "Yeah, okay. Is that all you wanted to tell me?"

"Aye." She tucked her paws underneath her, her eyelids already drooping as she settled down for another nap.

"And one more thing," she murmured sleepily, as Featherpaw and I were beginning to leave. I turned to glance back at her.

The elder yawned, "You don't have any idea how grateful and lucky you should be. You were a loner before, right? Something must have driven you from the Twolegplace to come here to the forest. Lucky, it was ThunderClan who found you instead of a wild rogue or a fox. Be grateful for these events, Stormpaw. I know how difficult life is for loners. I was one myself."

I tipped my head to one side, suddenly curious. "I know that. Purdy told me that a patrol had found you one night. You were half-starved. What happened?"

Without opening her eyes again, the elder muttered simply, "My family was killed by a group of Twolegplace cats. I was the only survivor. I ran away from the Place and found myself here."

"Oh." I suddently felt very awkward. "Um, sorry about that."

"Just leave now." Her cutting tone was back again. Without another word, Featherpaw and I pushed our way through the nettle screen and padded outside into the sunlight.

I shivered slightly from the cold. "Wow. Do all loners have it that tough?"

Featherpaw nodded.

Thinking for a minute, I meowed, "Oh, yeah. Silverpaw, Wolfpaw, and Scorchpaw were all loners before they came to ThunderClan, right? I wonder what happened to them." I gazed at her curiously. "Have they told you?"

She shook her head.

I wanted to know. What had happened to their families?

I paused and blinked when I felt Featherpaw's tail brush my shoulder. She stared at me intently, not quite a glare, but not a soft look either. Her green eyes were turning as murky as the bottom of a riverbed, and sharper than a stone-point arrow.

She signed with her tail, but she didn't need too. Just by peering at her face, I could tell what she wanted to say.

I grinned. "You're nervous then, huh? Don't worry, Featherpaw. We'll send WindClan scattering like rabbits. We'll show them not to mess with us!"

I sheathed and unsheathed my claws, digging them deep into the earth.

OoOooooooooooooooooOOOooOOooooooooOO

The wind from the moor was blowing toward the edge of ThunderClan, bringing with it the scent of heather and sparse, yellow grass that bit the horizon.

Ember and Dewstep sat side-by-side on the hill overlooking the river. The breeze buffeted their fur.

"Shouldn't you be preparing for the battle?" Ember asked. "Your Clanmates need you."

"Yeah, I guess." He grunted as he heaved himself carefully to his paws. Ember steadied him with his tail.

"Are your scars still bothering you?" she asked quietly.

He shook his head briskly. "No. I'm just stiff all over." He turned and waved his tail, watching the endlessly waving sea of meadow grass flowing before him. Then, without another word, he turned and dashed away into the depths of the forest, until his grey pelt disappeared and blended in among the shadows and ferns.

Ember stared after him long after he had gone.

_Oh, Dewstep_, she thought. _When she left, she took a part of you with her._

Shaking her head, she made her way down the rocky cliffs, hopping nimbly down from rock to rock, as light as if she were a feather.

She stopped to gaze at her surroundings. _Where do I go now? _

It didn't seem like she belonged in this forest anymore. Fang and Scarlet were dead. Her pack had disbanded and had scattered to the ends of the world. So why was she the one who was still here? What purpose did she serve?

She couldn't go back to the tunnels. It reminded her too much of her past. Stale blood still caked the walls.

No, she thought. There was an abandoned badger set somewhere farther away, somewhere up north. She remembered seeing it once. It would be cluttered with dead leaves and rotten filth, but if she cleared it out, it just might make a good home.

_Better than this, at least, _she thought.

The young fox stiffened suddenly. The air had abruptly shifted and dropped a few degrees lower. There was a hint of a warning tone in it, a subtle touch of something that shouldn't be there, of something dark and haunting and unnatural. Her hackles rose menacingly and she bared her teeth into a wicked snarl.

Something was happening, something that made her feel uncertain. Was it the Clans? Her instinct immediatley made her gaze off toward that direction. Her snarl didn't break.

Without any warning, the wind turned wild. It grew from a gale to a whirlwind, a blast of ice that almost knocked her off the ground. It blasted through the trees and rocked the branches as if a giant had suddenly gulped down a cyclone and was now letting it loose through the entire world. The roots of the trees creaked and groaned. The biting whisk of wind whistled, rushed by faster and faster, flinging up dust and making her fur and the grass dance wildly in its wake, and then, as mysteriously as it came, the great whirlwind retreated back and turned into puffs of steam that melted and disappeared into the air.

What was that? Ember didn't have time to think.

A low, warning growl escaped from her throat as the long grass parted to reveal a group of warriors stalking toward her.

_WindClan. _Her heart gave a jump when their unmistakeable scent wafted toward her.

And they were far from friendly. Their glares cut like razors. Their already unsheathed claws glinted coldly, and their growls combined were almost enough to deafen her.

_They're angry, _the fox realized with a start. _No, furious. _

She counted fifteen in all. And Clan cats, she knew, were not to be taken lightly.

They circled her, stalking her in a ring. Each one of them bore hatred in glares that were almost enough to make an adder shrink back.

Ember gritted her teeth in frustration. Although she was a fox, she couldn't fight all of them off on her own.

Up until now, they had watched and swooped in as silently as owls. A tom broke off to lift his head up and test the air.

"This must be Ember." His voice held a deadly poison. "She's ThunderClan's ally, and a tough one too. If we can get rid of her, then we'll also be getting rid of one of their strongest forces." He motioned to the others with his tail, and as one, the WindClan cats prowled closer and closer toward their target.

Ember's eyes widened in disbelief. WindClan's warriors were already beginning the battle!

_Right now? _she thought. _There's only fifteen of them here. The rest must already be heading toward the camp. _She clenched her teeth, her heart beating alarmingly fast.

_I have to warn Dewstep!_

"She's trying to escape!"

"Don't let her!"

Instantly, cats were barring her way, snarling and growling. They had her surrounded on all sides.

The growl that broke free from the fox's throat sounded for all the world like writhing thunder. For a second, fear flashed in the cats' faces.

Ember took a step forward, surveying each of the warriors. "You want to fight me?" she rumbled. Her eyes hardened. "Then don't think that I'll go easy on you!"

The cats charged as one, without hesitating. The fox snapped her jaws, strong enough to shatter bone, and unleashed all of her fury.

She barked and growled, darted and weaved her way through the leaping bodies of warriors, intent on defeating them, intent on going back to warn Dewstep.

"You fight well, foxheart," one of the cats spat. "But we won't let you win!"

Her only reply was a vicious snarl.

They jumped and twisted onto her back, slicing into her with their claws, tugging at her mane with their teeth. Ember's howl was a mix of pain and anger.

Suddenly, a shadow fell across the moor. The cats and fox continued to fight and struggle, oblivious to the new pair of eyes that were watching them.

But Ember suddenly knew. She broke off abruptly with a squealing cat pinned under one paw and gazed off in the direction of the forest. A dark shape was flitting nimbly through the trees. The sight made her heart swell with a feeling that she hadn't known in a long time.

_Go, then! _she thought eagerly. _Go save ThunderClan!_

OOoOoOoOooooooooooooooooooOoooOoOooooOOooO

**Stormpaw's POV**

"More WindClan warriors are coming!"

"Guard the entrance!"

"Help the elders escape!"

"Hurry! Do whatever you can!"

The yowls of my Clanmates were almost drowned out by the fury of the WindClan intruders. They hurled themselves through the gorse tunnel, clawed their way past the brambles, eyes full of malice and teeth bared to sink into flesh.

It was a scene of chaos. I ducked and rolled, trying not to crash into anyone, trying not to get involved in anything. My pulse raced in my ears, faster and faster and faster all the while. I yelped as someone lunged at me, parting his jaws to roar loudly, only to be intercepted by Leafpool. They writhed together on the ground, claws flashing in the sun, red mingling with the color of their pelts.

I urged my feet to carry me away. They had turned into jelly, as weak as a newborn kit's. I wanted to run, to escape and tear myself away from this hectic, bloody riot of claws slashing on claws. I wanted to be whirled a million miles away from here, just anywhere from here. Maybe even to the cosmos and beyond.

My ears rang with the screams and hisses of furious cats. I saw flashing white teeth, sharp as needles. Eyes, some wide with fear, others narrowed with fury and spite. Claws pounding into explosed flesh, red and scarlet where it shouldn't be.

The worst thing was the blood. It covered the ground. It splashed onto the dens like paint. The bitter, vile stench wafted from the ground and almost suffocated me as if someone had slapped a cloth around my lungs. I couldn't breathe. I didn't want to breathe, didn't want to smell the salty tang as life drained out in scarlet water.

My Clanmates fought like lions. The WindClan warriors were tigers. They surged forward in a wave of moving fur, countless claws and deafening howls of anger that split the sky in two like a crackle of electricity.

A WindClan cat reared up in front of me. Half of his face was dripping with the vile blood, but his eyes still blazed ferociously. He locked eyes with mine and made his way forward, jaws parted, panting. There was a wild look in his gaze that made me fluff out my fur and back away.

My eyes widened. He raised his paw. I could imagine it coming down like a hammer to crush me, break me...I was too terrified to even cry for help.

"Keep your claws off my apprentice!"

Dewstep screeched furiously and spiraled onto the warrior's broad back, digging his claws in to make him spit with pain. Dewstep drove him back, strike by strike, finally snapping his teeth into the enemy's arm so deep as to nick against bone. The WindClan warrior shrieked shrilly with pain, tugged free from the iron grip, and scrambled off to disappear among the moving scene of battling cats.

Dewstep whirled around to face me. A stream of blood was trickling steadily down his lip, and a torrent of blood was gushing so much down his muzzle that it was a miracle that he could still see.

His amber eyes, which I had known for so long, were now unrecognizable. My heart gave a leap. His eyes had a half-crazed look to them. Didn't he know who I was? Was he going to fight me too?

He straightened up and spat, "What are you doing, just standing there? Don't you have something to protect?" He was cut off with a gurgling cry when another enemy slammed into his side.

"Dewstep!" I cried. But I stiffened when I saw something thrashing on the edge of my vision.

Gorsetail had a squirming Featherpaw pinned down in his grasp. Her speckled white flank was marred with scratches, and she was trying as hard as she could to throw off her attacker. Her face was strained. Her jaws were parted into a silent snarl.

Ivypool came charging through the crowd like an enraged bull.

"_Don't you dare touch her!" _she screeched. Gorsetail's eyes widened as the grey-and-white she-cat came streaking toward him, surprised enough to loosen his grasp on Featherpaw for a split second. But it was enough.

She wiggled like an eel out of his hold and danced just out of his reach.

Ivypool's angry cry was cut off abruptly as two WindClan cats ran swiftly to meet her.

I yelled, "Featherpaw!"

Relieved that she was safe, I eyed her bleeding wounds. They were just thin claw marks, curved like crescent moons. She stared at me, her jaws parted to draw in air. Her sides were heaving, obviously from fear. Her green eyes were round and startled. I wondered if I looked that way too.

Gorsetail roared and came crashing down on us with outstretched paws. With a strangled cry of alarm, I dove away just in time with Featherpaw by my side.

His claws were strong enough to leave large gorge marks in the ground. My breath caught in my throat when I realized that we were lucky enough to escape it. Those marks could have been on our pelts.

But Gorsetail was far from finished. He hissed again, his eyes two red balls of fire, and lunged toward us. His jaws parted, revealing a row of snake teeth.

I ducked just in time for him to graze my ear, nicking it and just barely breaking the skin.

In an instant, Featherpaw and I locked eyes with each other. Hers were a verdant green, smoky around the edges and fading to a pale mint in the center. Determind. Hardened. Suddenly fiery with the passion of battle.

I nodded. You didn't need words to tell what others were feeling.

We landed nimbly on our paws, the two of us, and together, we surged forward as one.

Remember your training! I told myself. I have to remember everything that Dewstep taught me!

For a fleeting moment, her tail stroked against my side in a soft touch. In that instant, I knew. She had taught me the signs. The hidden language which only she knew. It was like a human's sign language, although she was using her tail instead of her hand.

_I'm going for his right side! _she told me. _You take the left! _There hadn't been any more time to say anything else.

I unsheathed my claws and darted forward. I saw Gorsetail's look of unconcealed surprise as I raked them across his ribs, grating them against coarse bone and muscle. A red flower bursted forth and splashed onto the ground. He howled in pain, turning to and fro, trying to find us.

But we were too fast for him. It was two against one, and he didn't stand a chance. Taking turns, Featherpaw and I each flew forward to nip him or scratch him or yank at his tail to unbalance him.

He opened his mouth to snap, only to bite at empty air. He lunged his claws in front of him, but each time, he was a second too late and only clawed at the breeze.

I leaped forward and aimed for his forehead, running my claws above his face to leave a long, jagged scar. He reared back and shrieked a bloodcurdling scream. Blood welled up from the wound and flowed onto his eyes, blinding him.

"Now!" I yelled.

Featherpaw and I scampered away, leaving our opponent writhing behind us. We tripped over our own paws in our hasty attempt in running. I almost lost my balance while slipping on a pool of sticky blood. WindClan cats targeted and chased us on every side, only to be intercepted by our own Clanmates.

We dove behind the elders' den. My sides were heaving. My heart was beating so fast that it sounded like a flickering inside my chest.

When I looked down at my paws, I almost gave a shout of surprise to see that they were completely soaked in red.

But then I remembered that it was only the blood from Gorsetail, and from the puddle that I had slipped on.

Featherpaw was banged up pretty badly. There was a nick from her ear that wouldn't stop bleeding, and numerous scratches oozed from her sides. Her white pelt, dappled with pale grey, now looked as scarlet as my paws.

I leaned forward to clean her up as best as I could, but she ducked and shook her head quickly. I guess it reminded her too much of how Ivypool was always fussing over her.

All around us, cats were screeching and attacking each other, rolling on the ground, flailing their claws.

So this was what a battle was! Despite myself, I felt a thrill of excitement.

"Nice work, Featherpaw!" I mewed. "We fought Gorsetail all on our own."

She nodded, almost giving a slight smile.

But then her expression quickly turned into a look of horror, extinguishing the thrill I felt inside.

I spun around to follow her gaze. My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach. My spine turned into ice.

Onestar was perched on the Highledge, now bloodstained and battered. His amber eyes were glowing with nothing less than hatred.

He was perched on the Highledge, on Bramblestar's post. It was an insult to the ThunderClan leader! But the thing that made my blood run cold, the thing that mattered the most right now, was that he had Silverpaw pinned down with one paw.

"What is he doing?" I screeched desperatley. He couldn't hear me, not with the sound of fighting cats and screeching. Next to me, I could feel Featherpaw quivering with disbelief.

Onestar yowled loudly with triumph, holding down the struggling apprentice.

"Silence, kit!" he hissed, but it only made Silverpaw thrash harder.

"Let me go!" she squealed, her blue eyes defiant. "Or I'll rip off your fur and feed you to the buzzards!"

She cried out sharply when Onestar landed a blow on the side of her head. "Be quiet!"

Anger filled my vision, numbing the pain. "Hey!" I snapped. "Don't do that!"

My voice sounded like a mosquito's humming compared to the screams and shrieks of the battle.

Onestar looked like a victorious king perched on his throne, the Highledge. He stared down at Silverpaw, then down at the crowd of cats.

Bramblestar yowled, "Onestar! What in the name of StarClan are you planning to do?"

A surge of ThunderClan cats started to make their way toward the Highledge, only to be blocked by a barricade of opponents.

Onestar rumbled, "This battle was fought to avenge Sedgewhisker's death! She was a noble and respectful cat. She had absolutely no reason to die!"

The WindClan cats shouted their approval.

Squirrelflight broke away from her fight and protested, "But we didn't murder anyone! We're innocent!"

The WindClan cats let out a torrent of insults.

"Liars!"

"Good-for-nothing murderers!"

"Fox-hearted demons!"

Bramblestar tried to make himself heard above the rioting of the WindClan warriors. "Believe me, Onestar!" His voice was desperate now, almost like a plea. "We bore no grudge against Sedgewhisker! We-"

"Be quiet!" Onestar snapped. "ThunderClan has commited an unforgiveable crime. They haven't killed just any innocent cat. Sedgewhisker was a queen. She was expecting kits soon, her first litter! There was even life inside her that had no reason to be ended!"

At this, the WindClan cats roared louder until I was sure that StarClan themselves could hear it.

I had never been this frightened in my life. "Silverpaw!" I cried. "Please don't hurt her!"

The other ThunderClan cats began to call out, pleading with Onestar.

The leader tightened his hold on the apprentice. Silverpaw wiggled weakly and mewled with fear. Her ears were folded so far back so that it looked like she had no ears at all. Her eyes were two round marbles, wide with fear and almost perfect circles. Just what was he planning to do with her?

Onestar raised his claw high above his head. They gleamed ivory in the sunlight, glinting coldly and as sharp as razors.

"Onestar!" Bramblestar roared.

"Onestar!" Squirrelflight gasped.

Their yowls mingled with the triumphant jeers of the enemies.

I distinctly heard the shouting of a familiar voice somewhere in the crowd.

"No!" Wolfpaw cried. "Please don't hurt her!" She tried to break free from the crowd. She tried to rush toward the Highledge, but was stopped by a pair of cats. Even then, she tried to fight her way through.

"Don't hurt her!" she screamed, her voice now high and tight with raw fear. I wasn't sure, but I thought I could see tears running down her face. _"She's my sister!"_

The WindClan leader was blind to all of their cries. With his claw now high above his head, he brought it down on the struggling Silverpaw with full force. It happened in slow motion. I saw Onestar's intent, bloodthirsty look, the sheer desperation in Squirrelflight's eyes, the helplessness in Bramblestar, Wolfpaw's tears, Scorchpaw's shocked look.

He brought his claws down, aimed directly for her chest, the razor-sharp points just inches from her fur.

I staggered to my paws, fear and desolation all mixed into one.

"Stop it," I shouted. Craning my neck forward, I yelled as loud as I could, "_Stop it!"_

There was a rumble coming deep from within the earth, as if the ground was creaking like joints and yawning deeply at the same time. There was a sound like a tooth being wrenched out of its socket, and then the ground trembled and shook and cracked like splinters. An agonizing groaning filled the air, loud as thunder, big as an explosion.

A tree at the edge of the clearing rocked in its place, waving back and forth, as if it was uncertain what to do. And then, in a sudden instant, it leaned forward and doubled up and came crashing into the camp. There was an explosion of dust as it collided with the dirt. The earth heaved and sighed with the rolling of the waves, and the sky was filled with the bellow and crash of wood against stone and the snapping of branches like bones.

The dust cleared. Everything was silent. A momentary hush had filled the clearing. A sense of alarm hung heavily in the air.

I was aware of the rapid pulsing in my ears. The cats were silent, all of them staring at the fallen tree in the center of the battlefield. Their fur was fluffed out.

Onestar's claw had stopped and was hovering several inches from Silverpaw's chest.

The tree had been old. It had suddenly toppled over, its rotten roots loosening enough for the earth to spit it out like a seed. And, out of chance, it had chosen this day to die.

Maybe StarClan _was_ watching over us after all! Only they could have sent a thunder bolt to strike down a tree!

Was Silverpaw going to be alright?

Slowly, little by little, the alarm began to wear out.

Onestar hissed, "No matter what you do, you won't stop me. We came here to avenge the death of our fallen comrade. She had no reason to have her life ended. Even the blood spilled today won't be enough to satisfy me."

Squirrelflight cried desperatley, "You're going too far with this, Onestar!"

"Silence! You killed one of my Clanmates. Don't you think I have the right to take a life from one of yours?" His voice began to break. "And why shouldn't I? Why shouldn't I just rip off her pelt and slit her throat like you did to Sedgewhisker?" His claw trembled, barely touching her fur. He wouldn't dare!

He couldn't just kill Silverpaw out of cold blood like that!

A voice, clear and true, cut through the still air like a knife and rang around the camp. "Because I'm telling you not to, Onestar."

Every cat turned toward the shape of a cat perched on top of the cliff, standing against the sun.

I could see the shock on the cats' faces. Even Onestar's eyes widened with disbelief.

"That voice," he whispered.

I shielded my eyes from the sun, trying to get a glimpse of the cat.

Who the heck was she?

Black fur that gleamed like polished stone. She looked like a shadow.

Nearby, I saw Dewstep standing stock-still. I wasn't sure if he was even breathing.

The black cat grinned softly, and I could have sworn that I had seen that smile somewhere before.

"Hello, Dewstep," she meowed with a voice that could make the world turn over. "Do you remember me?"


	13. Chapter 12-Noctem Aeternus

CHAPTER 12-Noctem Aeternus

The whole world seemed to start spinning at once and then stop, mid-air, suspended in the universe, and ceased to breathe. Silence had descended upon the battlefield as quickly and as suddenly as if we had broken into the vacuumn of space. They were all yowling and screeching loud enough to wake the dead a few seconds ago, but now, they might as well have been mute.

The leaves rustled and whispered amongst themselves. The blue sky churned like a wave. It was like watching a scene from a movie without any sound in it, save for the violent thudding of my heart and the breathing of Featherpaw beside me.

The black cat stood upon the top of the cliff, as still and unmoving as a statue. Her fur gleamed, polished, in the cold sun, as smooth as a raven's feather glinting to the light. Her dark brown eyes were almost as dark as black; dark enough to match the color of her pelt. They were stern, icy.

But not cold enough. There was a glint in there that reflected the light.

Confused, I glanced at my surroundings. Most of the younger cats, including Featherpaw,were blinking up at her with blank looks. However, the older ones stood spellbound, mouths agape, eyes wide with shock, as if they were gazing not at a cat, but at StarClan itself.

Bramblestar stood rigidly by the foot of the Highledge, something like bewilderment showing impossibly strong on his face. Even Onestar had halted, his paw poised frozen in the air.

No one said anything. No one moved. No one even blinked. Every cat was rooted to the spot, all of them staring up at the same thing.

I quietly nudged Featherpaw. "Who is she?" I whispered.

She blinked at me and shook her head, indicating that she didn't know either. Then she waved her tail and pointed to something a short way away.

I followed her gaze.

Dewstep was standing stock-still, as if he were made of stone. His fur was fluffed up until he looked twice his usual size, and his amber eyes were round with surprise. His mouth opened a few times, but no sound came out.

The black cat had called out his name a few moments before. What did she want with my mentor? Was she a WindClan cat? I parted my jaws to drink in the air, but it was no use. She was too far away for the wind to pick up her scent.

Her dark brown eyes surveyed the scene before her. It wasn't much to look at: blood stains everywhere, cats collapsed on the ground. There was a reek of iron that clung onto every cat's pelt. The blood on my paws was beginning to stiffen and dry out.

Her small grin had ceased, but then it was replaced by another smile, wider this time, when she caught sight of Dewstep again. Or was it the cat behind him?

No mistake-her gaze was aimed at Dewstep. Why? Who was she?

"Hey!" she called loudly, and began to make her way down the cliff.

That voice. And that smile. Those eyes. They all seemed so familiar, as if I had seen it in a dream somewhere. I tried to remember. It prickled the back of my mind like pins and needles.

And like Moses crossing the Red Sea, the group of cats, ThunderClan and WindClan alike, moved aside to let her pass. Some of them even dipped their heads. A few calmer ones nodded as she slid past them. Most of them, however, were too surprised to do anything but stare.

Including Dewstep. His legs were trembling now, his eyes quivering. Why? Was he scared?

"Featherpaw?" I breathed, without breaking my eyes away from her. "What's she going to do to him?"

And why wasn't anyone stopping her? How could a stranger just stride into the camp like this without a second thought?

Her voice was tiny. Like grass rustling together, or the trickling music of a stream. The camp was quiet enough for me to hear her.

She paused just a few feet in front of Dewstep.

Still grinning, she mewed, "Hello." Dewstep actually started a bit and then backed a few paces away from her. But he wasn't afraid. No, there was another emotion there in the bristle of his fur like electricity, the sweep of his tail, the quivering in his whole body. Something I didn't recognize, didn't know.

Maybe she was going to say something else, maybe something that actually made sense, but I didn't let her. She was weird; she was strange; she was out of place here. She didn't belong, like how water didn't belong in a desert, or warmth didn't belong in snow. I just felt her, somehow. Like an invisible aura pulsing from her in waves, a halo around light. She was different; she was different like how I was different. It made my neck prickle. Who was this cat, this cat who just appeared out of the blue from nowhere and who felt different from everyone else? Who was this cat, this _person, _who just tumbled out of the sky and crash-landed right in my life like a certain other weird one I knew?

Featherpaw's tail was quivering, and I knew that, somehow, she knew too.

I strode up toward her in long, bold movements and planted myself firmly in front of her, wedged between her and Dewstep.

A ripple passed through the crowd; no one said anything, no one gasped, and I was pretty sure that no one was even _breathing, _but I could tell, for just one flicker of a flame, what they were thinking.

I could also tell just from the horrified looks on their faces, the looks that were all aimed at me. I was in the spotlight. I didn't care, though. I was used to it.

I glared at her. Glared at her all over, from the tips of her toes to the tops of her ears. She stared back at me, more with confusion than anything else. She blinked a few times. Then she smiled again, laughed softly and shrugged her shoulders, like she thought that what I was doing wasn't a big deal.

I leaned in real close until our whiskers were touching and gave her another red-hot glare. She didn't flinch, but only stared back intently. Something glimmered in her eyes, like starlight washing on a beach.

Rainy days.

Metaphors.

Pink and purple with yellow spots.

_Tulips._

It couldn't be...

"Oh," she said. And her eyes widened.

She asked, "How are you feeling today?" She tipped her head to one side, a laugh in her voice that made the thing flutter in my heart once more. "Pink? Blue? Or a mix of everything, like the rainbow?"

I snapped my head back, irritation now mingling with my surprise, and hissed, "Y-you..."

She raised her head and looked at something behind me. "Dewstep! Oi, Dewstep!" She waved her paw. "You alright? Hey, don't act like that. I know it's been a long time, but-"

All of a sudden, in a violent lunge, he surged forward and was crying all over her, licking her shoulder and purring. He was a mess.

"I missed you," he mewed, and I couldn't tell what he was feeling more right now-sheer happiness or relief. "I'm so glad you're alright."

"You know him?" I asked her.

He broke away and blinked, his brow furrowing. "Are you saying that you know _her_?"

Before I could reply, a chorus of voices rose up and cats surged and crowded around us like waves. We were pushed and knocked roughly up against each other, and instantly, everyone started talking at once. I couldn't make out what they were saying. All of their voices rose up and mingled with each other into an ear-wrenching racket, like thread rolled up into a matted ball that could never be untangled. But they all wanted to talk to her.

"Onestar!" Ashley called out. She broke away from the crowd to scrabble onto a boulder at the foot of the Highledge.

"What are you doing up there, Onestar?"

The voices died down again. The WindClan cats looked away and shuffled their paws.

Onestar folded his ears back and bared his teeth defensively.

"Let go of her."

His amber eyes widened. "You don't know what this Clan has done-"

"I don't care. I've already seen enough from just the ruins of the camp. Let her go."

Her voice was firm now, hardly the same voice that I recognized from all those years. She flexed her muscles. Was she really planning to go up there and fight the WindClan leader?

The tom hesitated for a few heartbeats. Then something flashed in his eyes, a flame of defiance, and then he lowered his raised paw.

A growl came from his chest. Muttering something under his breath, he straightened up and let Silverpaw go. The apprentice mewled and got unsteadily onto her paws. Her fur was fluffed out with fear and her blue eyes were as round as an owl's. She scrambled to and fro and latched onto the first thing she saw-me. And she wouldn't let go, like moss clinging to a rock.

She felt stiff against me, more like a rock than fur. I nudged her gently. "Hey. You okay?"

She murmured something and buried her face into my shoulder.

"Silverpaw!" Wolfpaw cried as she bounded forward to meet us.

Onestar stared at us for a moment with a vile look, before shaking his fur and yowled, "Retreat, WindClan! Retreat!"

He bounded down from the Highledge and snarled, "This isn't over. It'll never be over!" before turning and sprinting away through the gorse tunnel.

The rest of his warriors hesitated before following.

One by one, they turned tail and exited the camp with a great pattering of hurried paws.

The camp was in ruins. Part of the warriors' den had caved in, revealing twisted and gnarled brambles. The gorse barrier was nothing but a cluster of shattered branches, what had been left over after the WindClan warriors had barged in. Blood stained the walls. A few deep scratch marks were lined against the ground and dens. Around me, my Clanmates were darting around, shouting orders or rushing to help a few cats who had collapsed.

The blood had sunk deep into the ground like a bright billow of red, although the edges were now turning a shade of cracked brown. It had somehow made its way into the air so that everything stunk of salt.

I stiffened when Ashley padded toward me.

"Are you okay, Sam?" she asked, eyeing my wounds.

I didn't have a chance to answer. Dewstep faced her, purring loudly. "I'm so relieved," he meowed. "You're back. You're finally back. I was wondering if you'd forgotten..."

"Dewstep," she purred back, rubbing her forehead against his. "I'm sorry I couldn't get to you sooner. What did you think I did, mouse-brain? I couldn't just leave you and Ember and Spottedpaw behind. Of course I didn't forget."

The tom looked happier than I had ever seen him. There was an actual beaming smile on his face that almost softened the old scars.

Ashley broke off and gazed at me. Her eyes brightened. "And you, Sam! I just suddenly panicked when you left. I couldn't believe it, but I realized that somehow, you ended up...here." She gazed at her surroundings. "What happened? Sam, you're going to have to tell me everything."

"Again," Dewstep meowed, looking up. He scrutinized me. "Do you two somehow know each other?"

My Clanmates abruptly stopped and stared. Disbelief was etched all over their faces.

Scorchpaw, Wolfpaw, Featherpaw, and Silverpaw all blinked in confusion.

I shrugged. "Yeah, we met in the cit-I mean, the Twolegplace. What's the big deal?"

Squirrelflight padded forward on shaky limbs. "Stormpaw, you don't know-"

Ashley abruptly cut her off. "Stormpaw? Is that what they've named you?" She wrapped her paws around me and buried her nose in my fur. "So you've become an apprentice! That's wonderful! Who's your mentor? Has the training been hard?"

"Whoa, calm down there," I said, smiling. She leaned back and sighed with contentment.

She was happy. I could tell from the sparkle in her eyes and the grin on her face that I've come to love so much. Her happiness made me feel glad too.

"How did you end up here?" I asked. "Are you going to join ThunderClan too?" I wanted her to stay with me. I could beg her and _make_ her join if she refused. I wanted to hunt and fight and be with her, just like in my human life. Now that I could see her again, I realized just how much she meant to me. My heart gave a lurch when I imagined what it would be like if she decided to leave.

"Ah, don't worry, Sam," she mewed. She could tell from the worry in my voice. "I don't think I'll be leaving any time soon. In fact, I'm a _warrior _here_." _

"Huh?" I was a bit taken back. Here, standing before me, was the girl who couldn't fight back when the boys came to taunt her, the one who had cried on her seventh birthday, the one who believed and still believed in aliens and Bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster.

I smiled back. "Hey, don't joke about that." I crouched down and flexed my arms. "Wait till we train together. I'll show you how much I learned!"

"But I'm serious, Sam. I'm a ThunderClan warrior." She straightened up with pride.

"And my name is _Shadefrost."_

I stopped, my eyes widening in disbelief. Shadefrost. Shadefrost, Shadefrost...

Silverpaw, Wolfpaw, and Scorchpaw stiffened along with me. Even Featherpaw had a shocked look on her face.

I laughed nervously. "Eh heh, wow, Ashley, I-"

She furrowed her brow. "I'm not lying, Sam."

Dewstep nodded. "It's true."

I slowly gulped and turned to gaze at every cat next to me. They all grinned and nodded, and the butterflies in my stomach turned into static that shivered all the way down my spine.

"Then," I said slowly. "You're the...the legend...that everyone's been talking about."

She blinked with a mild surprise. "Oh, so I'm a legend now? To be honest, I actually thought that everyone had forgotten about me."

Bramblestar shouldered his way through the crowd and dipped his head in respect. It was almost comical to see the huge, broad-shouldered leader bending down to greet the small, slender she-cat.

"Welcome, Shadefrost," he purred. "We're very glad to have you here again. You've finally come back."

The ThunderClan cats glanced at each other, some of them whispering into each other's ears, others with a bright gleam in their eyes.

Suddenly, as one, like a lion bunching up its muscles to make a flying leap across a canyon, they opened their mouths and chanted at the top of their lungs.

"Shadefrost! Shadefrost! Shadefrost!"

Her name, over and over again, like a trophy, like honey on the tongue. Excitement and joy quivered in their throats, singing her name, cheering for her, welcoming her back. The camp was filled with nothing but her, always her.

After a while, Silverpaw, Wolfpaw, and Scorchpaw joined in.

Everyone broke off the chanting and began to gather around her. They shoved, trying to be the closet to her, asking her questions, pelting her with words.

"Where did you go?"

"How long are you staying?"

"The Guardian! The Guardian of the Lake has finally come back!"

Bramblestar shouldered his way through the crowd and held his head high. "Don't be too rough with her," he meowed. "She must be tired after her long trip. Give her some time to rest. Rosepetal, Icecloud, fetch some moss for her nest. Jayfeather and Briarlight, make sure that she-"

"There's really no need, Bramblestar," Shadefrost broke in. "I feel fine." She gazed around the camp, her eyes suddenly darkening. "But what happened here? Why was there a battle?"

She slowly padded over to Silverpaw and sniffed her fur. Silverpaw stiffened at the contact, her blue eyes wide with barely concealed awe.

Shadefrost asked softly, "Are you alright? Did Onestar hurt you?"

The apprentice was trembling lightly, but not from the pain. She was staring dumbstruck at Shadefrost as if wings had suddenly sprouted from her back.

It took all of her willpower to slowly shake her head, her eyes still trained on the black she-cat.

Shadefrost sniffed her again. "I'm not sure about that. Your wounds are bleeding pretty heavily."

She looked up and called, "Jayfeather! I think you need to take a look at her."

Silverpaw squeaked and scampered away, while shaking her head quickly and mewing, "N-no! I'm fine! It's fine!"

She dove behind Wolfpaw's back, just out of sight, and quivered there. Wolfpaw was watching Shadefrost with a mixture of bewilderment and wonder in her frosty eyes, along with Scorchpaw. Even Featherpaw, with her usually neutral expression, looked astonished.

Shadefrost stared after her, her brow furrowed. "Did I scare her?"

I grinned, amusement flickering in my chest. "Nah, she's okay. Just a bit shocked."

Scorchpaw suddenly broke in and padded tentatively forward, his ears flattened and his ginger-and-white fur slightly fluffed out. He glanced at me, then back at her, and mewed, "Sorry to interrupt, but...it's just hard to believe. How long have you known the Guardian?"

I replied without hesitating, "For years."

A murmur rippled through the crowd like a disturbance in water.

Squirrelflight dipped her head at Shadefrost with respect, as if bowing to a Clan leader. "It's an honor to have you back, Shadefrost. We've never forgotten the enormous debt that we owe you."

Part of me was still surprised. Here, standing before me, was Ashley. Except that she was a cat. We were both cats. This could be a dream, but it was much too real to be a dream. And besides, I would've woken up already.

The Clans were real. The warriors were real, not just some made-up fantasy novels stacked up in my shelf.

This couldn't be Ashley, not the Ashley I knew. I peered at her closely. Her brown eyes were the same, the same ones that I had known for ten years: warm, fawn and chestnut like the color of cocoa, like doe's eyes, like the tepid dust that nestled itself within the veins of autumn leaves. But now they had a slight tint of something else in them, something very faint and small like a hint of iron. And the scar on her side; the scar that wound its way from her shoulder all along her ribs like a thin, curved snake, even more noticeable now against her black fur. I had asked her, maybe a hundred times, about that scar. Her answer had always been the same.

She suddenly stiffened and gazed at the bloodied remains of the Clan. "Was anyone badly hurt?"

Bramblestar shook his head. "Thanks to you, it was stopped before any real damage could occur. It was a fight against WindClan. Apparently, a queen had died on their border and they're blaming it on us."

He didn't mention that it was a murder, and he left out Moleclaw's death. But I guess it was for the better; I didn't want Ashley to freak out.

Dewstep meowed to Bramblestar, "I'd like to show Shadefrost around the territory. So much had changed since she'd left."

Bramblestar nodded. "Very well, then. But be careful." He opened his mouth to mew something else, but then shook his head and shut it.

I could guess what he was going to say. _Be careful. About the murderer._

I perked up. "Oh yeah. Wasn't there something about two WindClan apprentices on our territory? Is the killer still there?" I shivered when I imagined him standing so close to the camp.

Shadefrost stiffened and glanced at me with a worried look. _Killer? _she mouthed silently.

Squirrelflight glared at me for a few seconds before smiling at Shadefrost. "No, it's nothing to worry about. It was a trap that WindClan had set up. They lured Bramblestar and half of the warriors away from the camp, saying that there were some intruders in our part of the forest. Thank StarClan, Bramblestar realized the scheme right away and came rushing back here to fight."

"Oh." Shadefrost's eyes suddenly brightened. She bounded toward me and nuzzled my fur happily, purring. "I knew I'd find you here."

I gave her a crooked grin, feeling a bit awkward to have so many cats staring at us. "Oi, you know I don't like hugs."

She backed away and flicked her tail. "Come on, then. What are you waiting for? Let's go!" She beckoned toward the gorse tunnel.

"But..."

I glanced at her, then back at the rest of the apprentices. They all had hopeful smiles plastered on their faces, sitting tall and straight as if their backs had been replaced with a firm wire.

I asked, "Can they...come with us?"

Squirrelflight opened her mouth to object, but Shadefrost didn't notice her. She nodded and said, "Of course."

OoOOoOoOOooooooooooOOooOoOOOOOOoOoOoOOo

We strolled through the forest, Dewstep in the lead and Shadefrost and I padding side-by-side. Silverpaw, Wolfpaw, and Scorchpaw trailed behind us. Featherpaw was last.

They were whispering among themselves, their voices sounding like the light _shush-shushing _of reeds brushing against rocks. If I angled my ears in the right direction, I could pick up what they were saying.

"So that's really Shadefrost?" Scorchpaw whispered.

"How intriguing," Wolfpaw murmured. "She looks just like an ordinary cat."

"Did you hear it? Stormpaw and Shadefrost both know each other! Stormpaw's so amazing!" Silverpaw's excited chattering was a bit louder.

Despite myself, a sense of pride began to swell inside me.

"Hey," Ashley mewed, snapping me out of my thoughts. She waved at me with her tail, pointing toward an opening in the bushes. Blinking at her questioningly, I slipped inside, the others following behind. The bushes quickly swallowed us up.

The light filtered through the leaves in glowing patches and dappled our pelts. Dry bracken crunched underpaw. The air was filled with the normal scent of the woodlands, but as we continued through the tunnel, another perfume wafted through, mingling with the scent of acorns and oaks. A sweet aroma that reminded me of heather, of nectar. And something else, something vaguely familiar...It made me picture a scene from an old, yellow photograph, of deep, waving seas and a wide, open sky.

The branches thinned out. I shouldered my way through the thorns, catching tufts of my fur on them.

Silverpaw bounded forward and abruptly skidded to a halt, her mouth open in wonder. Her blue eyes widened.

She breathed, "It's...it's beautiful."

"What is it?" I asked, still trying to squeeze my way out of the tunnel.

And then I stopped. And I stared.

Surrounding me on all sides was a meadow that seemed to stretch on forever, for as far as the eye could see. It was a golden ocean of grass that seemed to glow with an inner warmth. The grass was tall enough to reach up to my shoulders and soft enough to feel like cotton. They weaved back and forth as the wind breathed on them gently, making them look as if they were dancing. Yellow dandelions peered up from between their stalks.

High above me was the sky, the bluest blue imaginable. There were no trees here. We had left the forest far behind us. Now, without any branches to block them from view, I could see the entire realm above me. It was blue...so blue. The most beautiful color that I could see. It seemed, that if I reached my paw up high enough, I could touch it.

The scent of heather and honey was everywhere, like an exotic and rich perfume. It would be winter soon, but it seemed that the frost would never touch this place. The meadow was brighter than gold. Brighter even than the sun.

I heard muffled paw stops as someone moved in next to me, but I couldn't move my eyes away from the ever-waving, ever-dancing field of yellow.

"Snowstorm was the one who should me this place. Did I ever tell you about him?" There was a hint of sadness in her voice, a whiff of melancholy. "It's much more beautiful here at night. You can see all of the stars. There's no light pollution to get in the way."

"Shadefrost," I whispered.

Her ears perked up. "Yes?"

"Ashley." And suddenly, I was filled with something inside my chest that ached and swelled and ceased like the rocking of the tides on a beach. There was suddenly a lump in my throat. Without another word, I buried my face in her chest and breathed in her scent, her familiar scent that I had known for years and that I didn't want to ever leave me.

"Oh, Sam," she said with a hint of a chuckle, and she pressed me closer against her.

I heard the squeals of Silverpaw and Scorchpaw as they romped and wrestled in the field with glee, the rustle of Wolfpaw as she bent down to catch a whiff of the dandelions. Even Featherpaw, batting curiously at dandelion seeds floating in the breeze. And Dewstep sitting a few tail-lengths away, his eyes closed, doing nothing but enjoying everything around him.

When I was little, I always wondered what it would feel like to live in a snowglobe. With a glass dome surrounding you, encasing a blue sky and all of eternity inside it.

This was eternity in the snowglobe, this meadow, and everything in it. The frost would never reach this place. Time itself would stop here.

We waited, Ashley and I, in a neverending field of sunlight.

OOooOOOoOoOoOooOoOoooOOoOoOoOOoooooooOoOoo

Shadefrost was right. The nights were beautiful here.

Long shadows stretched across the heather and wrapped everything in shades of blue and purple and indigo. As the sun set, stars slowly appeared and twinkled brightly against dark velvet.

Fireflies lit up and danced among the grass like tiny balls of glowing flame. Featherpaw yawned and rolled over onto her back, batting her paw lazily in an effort to catch them.

We were sprawled out among the billowing stalks.

Shadefrost pointed out the stars. "That's the Big Dipper," she mewed, her eyes sparkling. "And Orion, the man with the lion in his hand."

"And that's the North Star," she whispered quieter, as if she was telling me a secret. "If you have him, you'll never get lost."

I watched and listened with my eyes half-closed, feeling the beat of the earth underneath me.

Silverpaw was already asleep, curled against the side of her sister. Wolfpaw was starting to nod off. Scorchpaw was lying next to me, his nose buried in the fur of his tail. He looked so peaceful, his breathing coming slow and steady. The moon illuminated his pelt so that it seemed to glow like the stars. I drew him in closer, feeling his fur brush against mine.

Ashley handed me a dandelion. "Rub it against your chin," she meowed, her eyes bright. "If it comes off yellow, that means that you're in love."

"In love?" I asked her. I'd been in love before. More times that I could count. It had been like the Titanic, gigantic and massive in size, so strong that it seemed like nothing can stop it. But we all know the ending. Tragic ending.

She smiled. "Sure." She looked back up at the stars. "There's many kinds of love. Some good, some bad. Love for your friends, or your family, for example. Or maybe for someone special. Try it."

I hesitated, and then shrugged. I was just about to raise the dandelion to my chin, but all of a sudden, the heather parted and a dark form stalked out.

My hackles began to rise in alarm, but all of a sudden, the scent made its way toward me. My hackles relaxed, only slightly.

A fox trotted toward us, something dangling from her mouth. The aroma told me that it was a rabbit.

_Not Atlas, _I thought, with a mild relief.

Ember dropped the prey in front of us and settled down, nestling warmly against the warm grass. In the night, she looked larger than ever. The shadows ran down her face and made her eyes gleam darkly. I still didn't trust her.

The fox gazed away and nodded. Dewstep was dozing next to Ashley. In the soft light of the white moon, the scars on his face didn't look as sharp as usual. They were more like light markings against his rough grey fur.

"He looks peaceful," she rumbled. Even now, I still felt a mild twinge of surprise when she talked. It just seemed weird to hear a fox speak the words of a cat.

She touched noses with Ashley. "It's glad to have you back."

"Ember," my friend purred. "I've missed you. I'm sorry I couldn't be back sooner." Her voice became alarmed. "You're hurt. Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine." She adjusted her position to get more comfortable. Her red pelt rustled like autumn leaves. "I've been hurt much worse before."

Ashley grinned softly. "You've gotten so big. The last time I saw you, you weren't much older than a pup."

I left them to their conversation, gazing off into the distance, lost in thought. Just being here with everyone, with all of my companions, snuggled up side-by-side, brought me a warm feeling that I hadn't felt in a long time. I wanted to stay here forever.

Without warning, I stiffened.

"Oh," I breathed softly.

Ashley glanced at me. "Hm?" And then she stopped and stared too.

Not far away from us, bobbing up and down in the breeze. A pair of them, burning like fire despite the coldness of the night. Scarlet. Auburn. Red like roses, like ripe apples, like the hearth.

Tulips. As red as anything.

"Oh," Ashley said again, more quietly this time. "I didn't think they grew here. Or were they always there? I don't remember."

We watched in silence, listening to our breaths as they poured out of our mouths in fog and drifted off into the stars. The air grew colder, but we only snuggled closer together and kept out warmth. And the sight of the red tulips made me feel warm too.

"I'm happy," Ashley suddenly said. "I'm happy, Sam."

"Heh. Don't act so childish."

"But I am! I'm just so glad to be here with everyone. I think my heart's going to burst. I'm happy. I'm happy." With her face illuminated by the moon, I could tell that she really was. It made the feeling in my chest stir too.

I raised my eyes toward the North Star. It glittered, blue and white, then white and blue, as if it was winking at me.

As I was looking up toward it, was it looking down at me at the same time?

I listened to the rhythmic breathing next to me, and then closed my eyes and was carried off to the rising and falling tide of sleep.


	14. Chapter 13-Identification

**I noticed a mistake that I made several chapters before: Stormpaw's eyes are actually green, not brown. **

**I'd also like to thank ****Giang Tien ****for giving me the idea to this chapter. **

**In answer to ****Wood Cat's ****question: Thanks for the review! If you haven't seen Shadefrost's story yet, it's called "Don't Be Afraid to Fly". Click on my username (PillowRabbit) and it'll take you to my profile. Scroll down to the very bottom of the page and you'll find it there along with all of my other stories. **

CHAPTER 13-Identification

The snow descended with a sudden swiftness, with a quiet breath like a sigh from the mountains. There was just enough wind to carry it from the heavens and heave it downward with a whispering of frost on leaves and a whirring of hushed coldness.

The winter was quiet. Peaceful, even. The snow fell in large, soft flakes that matched the feathers of white birds. There was no sound except for the shifting of cold air as you moved and the crunching of paws underfoot. Everything closed up; the mice scurried into the burrows and refused to come out. Most of the birds flew south to escape the cold, save for the few bold and foolhardy ravens who chose to stay.

The den was warm with the heat that I shared with the other apprentices. I blinked the sleep away lazily and got busy with grooming my tail. It was dark too, and the air was filled with the spicy and dusty scent of dried moss and mingled pelts.

Now that I was a cat, I found that I could smell a lot better, and see more in the dark too. Just a few bonuses that I got for leaving my old life behind.

Silverpaw and Wolfpaw shared the same scent: the aroma of towering pines and massive hills, and maybe, if I focused hard enough, I could detect a faint whiff of smoke too, but not the smoke from a fire. It was hard to describe.

Featherpaw's scent was clear. She smelled of water and rain and deep, dark arching caves filled with lichen and dampness.

And Scorchpaw. I parted my jaws to drink in his scent. His was pleasant. Like honeydew. Something like a mix between sunshine and nectar. I wouldn't mind to have it made into a perfume and sprayed all around so that the air hung heavily with it.

I spotted the dark pelt of Shadefrost as she dozed, her sides rising up and down in a rhythm as she breathed. Even though she was a warrior, she liked sleeping in the same den as me, sharing it with the other apprentices. And if she was here, then Dewstep followed. He was curled up next to her side, his eyes closed and the scars on his face not so noticeable. He didn't look so much like a demon when he was asleep.

It was good to be here; I didn't have any responsibilities except to hunt, train, and stay alive. No teachers, no nagging parents, no tests, no bullies, and most of all, I didn't have to face that monster. I had left the beast behind in my closet, back in my house; I wouldn't have to stare down its ugly face anymore or hear it whisper in my ear.

I didn't have to do anything here but catch my next meal and not break anything. Everything else would be fine. I shook my head, snuffing out the memories and padded over to the opening of the den, carefully not to wake anyone or tread on any tails.

I halted, confused. The opening, wide and arching, was blocked and covered with a white wall so that nothing could peek through. I sniffed it; it was cold and wet.

I realized that it was snow. It must have snowed during the night. What would it look like outside? Stepping forward, I eagerly pressed my paws against the wall of ice and heaved it. It gave way easily with a soft _crunch _and I quickly clawed it away, enough to form a tunnel wide enough for me to squirm through.

White sunlight, bright enough to sear my eyes, greeted me as I pushed my shoulders through the bulky snow and made my way out.

For a moment, I was blinded by a strong light of whiteness, Shaking my head to clear it out, I surveyed the scene in wonder.

It was like I had stepped into a crystal-clear world, glowing and pulsing with shades of blue and frost. The rising sun pooled over the glittering snow that lay in thick blankets over everything, covering the dens and the skeletal trees so that everything was the color of ivory. It twinkled, as if a million tiny stars were trapped in them. Sharp icicles hung down from branches, looking as if they were made out of crystal. I could see my reflection in them; it stared back at me with an expression of awe.

My breath wafted out into the cold air and plumed out like a bloom of white smoke, and then drifted away and was gone. I suddenly noticed how freezing it was out here; the snow was high enough to completely cover my paws and brush my belly. The tips of my ears were already numb, and my limbs were quickly losing feeling.

I quickly dove back into the warm den. Dewstep gave a muffled snort that sounded like a mix between a huff and a sneeze. His ear twitched as he sleepily screwed his eyes open to stare at me.

I froze with shock and a slight twinge of fear. Was he going to start yelling at me for waking him up? The air inside suddenly seemed a bit colder.

To my relief, he only yawned and plopped his head back down onto the soft moss. I let the fur on my back lie flat. These days after Shadefrost had arrived, he really did seem friendlier. A little, at least. He wasn't as sour as before.

A spotted a little movement out of the corner of my eye and turned my head to meow a greeting to Featherpaw. She was always one of the first to wake up. The spotted white cat nodded in return and stopped to crane her neck out the opening of the den. She screwed up her bright eyes in the harsh light and surveyed the snow.

I padded up next to her. "Pretty, isn't it?"

Her fur blended in almost perfectly with the snow. Only her eyes and the pink shock of the insides of her ears were clearly visible. Now, against the white background, her features were more eagle-like. Her muzzle was long and narrow, her cheekbones drawn in sharply and her chin narrowed to a point. Even her shoulders seemed bony. She was a bundle of sharpness and angles, every part of her tapered to a thin point and her limbs fluid and stick-like, but not clumsy. Her vibrant forest-green eyes narrowed as she gazed off into the distance. They were piercing, as sharp as her bones, sharper than daggers. Calculating and intelligent, even. Whenever I thought that she was half-asleep, she was always wide awake.

I was still waiting for her reply. The tip of her tail was twitching back and forth, but I didn't recognize it as any of the signals that she had taught me over the past moon. It was only a sign of her nervousness; she was upset about something. As I blinked at her curiously, she continued to stare at something beyond the camp, past the protection of the gorse tunnel. Her hackles began to rise, ever so slightly.

Our breaths mingled and twirled in the frosty morning air and then disappeared, like whisps of ghost.

"You okay?" I asked her quietly. She stopped staring and drew back a little, as if startled, and then nodded.

There was a stirring within the apprentices' den. After a short scuffling, Dewstep emerged. He sniffed the air and fluffed out his chest fur in the cold.

"It's still early," he mused, looking up at the sun. "We might be able to form a dawn patrol."

I yawned. "Dawn patrol? Can't we just stay inside the den where it's nice and cozy?"

"No. It's a good time for a walk. We might also be able to catch something back for the Clan. Wake up the others. I'll go tell Squirrelflight."

I opened my mouth to protest, but he was already gone before I had a chance.

I stared glumly as he sprinted away nimbly through the thick drifts of snow. "Man, he doesn't listen to anything, does he?"

Featherpaw turned and padded silently back into the warm den, and I had no choice but to follow her.

She crept slowly up to Shadefrost's sleeping form and tentatively raised a paw. Her movements were slow and a little bit cautious, as a mouse trying to sneak its way past a lion.

I laughed. "It's not like she's gonna kill you, ya know."

Featherpaw shot me a hard look with her eyes and then carefully shook the black she-cat. Shadefrost continued to doze, her eyes shut tight. Featherpaw shook her more insistently.

At least, she blinked open her eyes and stretched luxuriously, the entire length of her body rippling and arching.

Shadefrost yawned, but then broke off and looked up at the apprentice that was still staring at her. She mewed, "Oh, hello. Is there something wrong?"

Featherpaw was still staring at her with a hard look, but it wasn't exactly a glare. Far from it, in fact. It was more like a look of concentration.

After a short moment, she turned and stalked out of the den.

"Is she alright?" Shadefrost asked me.

I shrugged. "There's something wrong with her throat, so she can't talk. Just don't bother her."

Scorchpaw was already up, quietly crouching in a corner. He licked his paw and drew it up over one ear, grooming himself.

Wolfpaw nudged the still sleeping Silverpaw. She moaned and furrowed her brow, curling up tighter the more insistent the prodding got.

"Silverpaw," I meowed. "You have to get up. Dewstep is forcing us on a dawn patrol."

The she-cat dug her face deeper into Wolfpaw's thick pelt. I loomed up in front of her. "Silverpaw?"

Without warning, her eyes snapped open and she pounced on top of me with her arms outstretched. We wrestled on the ground in a flurry of dust. I managed to pin her down with one paw before cuffing her over the ear. "Hey!" I yelled. "What the heck was that for?"

The cat blinked at me a few times with a wide, innocent look, as if she didn't quite know who I was. Her surprise was replaced with a huge smile.

She laughed. "Oh, did I do this? I thought something was chasing me."

I stepped back to let her sit up, and then growled, "It was a dream, idiot."

"Oh, was it? A nightmare, then."

Dewstep poked his head in, his tail lashing impatiently. "Is everyone ready? We're leaving now."

Shadefrost nodded and trotted out after him. The rest of the apprentices trailed out after her, some distance placed between them.

I noticed it. Shadefrost had already spent a good, solid eight days here, and the excitement that still lingered in the camp was beginning to calm down. But they were still pretty glad to see her; Seedpelt called out a greeting to her as she passed. The kits stopped their tumbling and paused to gaze up at her with awe. Purdy and Frostfire were lounging out by the basking rock. Frostfire tossed her a quiet, expressionless look before turning away. On the whole, everyone admired her. Adored her, hailed her as a hero, a leader, even a god. Their worship was as noticeable as the snow that lay piled in heaps around the walls. I watched her as she padded into the sunlight. Even though I knew that Shadefrost was still the same person that I had met all those years ago, that she was still _Ashley, _I couldn't quite believe that her name was so honored here.

She cried easily. She couldn't stand it when I fought with the other kids in the neighborhood. She was afraid of the dark. And yet, here she was with a whole Clan bounding after her heels.

I noticed that the other apprentices kept a wide berth between them and Shadefrost, as if they were afraid of her. Afraid of her strength, her power. And yet, admiration still shone in the way they whispered among themselves and casted glances in her direction.

Everyone loved her. I couldn't help but feel a little twinge of envy. Just a little bit.

The thick snow crunched with every step we took. It now reached to my chest, and I had to heave my way through.

"Careful now," Shadefrost meowed as she rushed in to support me. Together, we shoved the snow aside to make a path for all of us.

Scorchpaw shivered. "Maybe if we move closer together, we'll be warmer."

Dewstep nodded and said, "Good idea. Shadefrost and Wolfpaw, move to the outside of the group to form a ring. The younger ones will stay within the circle. We'll travel like that."

It did become warmer. Scorchpaw and I were pressed up so close that our pelts were brushing, white against tortoiseshell. Our breaths rose and unfurled in the air.

We were descending into the woods now. I gazed at the scenery with wonder. The forest didn't look at all the same. Bare trees, blanketed with a thick covering of snow, stood tall and straight as they braved the winter winds. The sun filtered in through their branches and casted strange, twisted shadows on the snowy floor.

It was like we had broken into a snowglobe, with an endless, crystal-clear sky above us and a white wonderland beneath our paws. It took my breath away.

"I've never seen anything like it," I whispered.

Scorchpaw agreed. "Me neither. This is my first leaf-bare."

Shadefrost suddenly broke away from the circle and bounded away.

Dewstep called, "Where are you going?"

"Nowhere." She scuffled into the snow and skirted around some bushes, laughing with glee. "It's much more fun like this, Dewstep! Try it!"

"We are on a dawn patrol," he meowed, but he didn't look annoyed. "We can have fun later."

But my paws were itching to join her.

Scorchpaw warned, "Get a hold of yourself, Stormpaw. If you roll around on the snow like that, it'll stick to your fur in clumps and I'll have to groom you like I did before." I rolled my eyes, resisting the urge to stick my tongue out at him playfully.

Silverpaw nudged me, her blue eyes sparkling. I stared back, a smile slowly creeping to my lips. With a giggle, we soared away from the group to join Shadefrost's romping.

I cried out in surprise when I landed chest-deep in a snowdrift and desperatley tried to claw my way out. The snow was packed in firmly, so it didn't take much to pull myself out. I gave my chest a few licks, kind of embarrassed to be seen floundering around like a stuck deer.

Something hard smacked into me on the side of my face and left a burning sting that lingered.

I spun around and yowled, "What do you-" before halting. Shadefrost was busy making snowballs, rolling them around with her paw until they were about the size of her fist. She was teaching Silverpaw to do it, too.

I smirked. Crouching down, I gathered up as much snow as I could and began to roll it. Easily, the sticky snow formed into a ball and I leaped up triumphantly.

"Heads up, Ashley!"

She looked up quickly, a few seconds too late. The snowball soared through the dawn air and landed square on her face in just a matter of seconds. Bits of broken snow crumbled and flew everywhere.

Startled, she jerked back, but when she saw me rolling around at the top of the slope, laughing until my ribs hurt, she grinned and started laughing too.

Scorchpaw and Wolfpaw casted sideways glanced at each other, unsure of what to do. Wolfpaw hesitated, her blue eyes surveying what was happening.

"What do you think they're doing?" Scorchpaw muttered. "They're getting their pelts all soggy. The apprentices' den is going to be as wet as RiverClan when they come back, and they'll leave it up to _me _to clean all of their mess."

He squinted. "What are they doing, anyway? Throwing wads of snow at each other?"

Wolfpaw blinked at him, not saying anything.

Stormpaw paused in the middle of rolling another snowball and dodged one that was sent flying by Silverpaw. She called, "Wolfpaw, Scorchpaw! Featherpaw! What are you waiting for? Get-" The rest of her voice was muffled as a third snowball collided with her face.

Wolfpaw hesitated, but then bunched up her muscles and leaped across the slope to join them.

Startled, Scorchpaw gaped, "Wolfpaw? You too?"

The blue-grey she-cat shrugged, her mouth raised to a slight, tiny grin. "It looks fun," she mewed simply before turning away to join the ruckus.

The tom sighed in defeat. "Fine, then." He stood up and cautiously made his way down.

Dewstep lashed his tail irritably.

He hissed angrily, "Control yourselves! Are you ThunderClan apprentices or a bunch of flea-brained rabbits?"

"Flea-brained rabbits!" I replied back, happily dodging a flurry of snowballs that were launched by Scorchpaw.

Dewstep growled, growing angrier every second. What was wrong with them? They were on a dawn patrol, for StarClan's sake! Impatiently, he tried to think of what Bramblestar would do in this situtation.

Shadefrost spat out a mouthful of snow, her black fur standing out sharply against the white like a shadow. A pile of snow was resting on her head and shoulders.

"What are you waiting for, Dewstep?" she shouted. "Come on!"

The grey tom turned and huffed in annoyance, his fur beginning to bristle. "No thank you," he muttered. "I am a proud ThunderClan warrior. I'm not going to act as childish as-"

A snowball hurled away from Shadefrost's throw and landed smack dab on his shoulder, exploding in a shower of powdered snow.

Dewstep shook off the blow and strode forward, stiff with anger, his amber eyes blazing. "Alright, you asked for it!"

Shadefrost couldn't help but let out a cry of joy and surprise when he began to chase her.

"Get back here, Shadefrost!" he roared. "I'm going to get even with you!"

She only laughed with glee and tossed her head up. "Catch me if you can, slow-poke!"

The forest became filled with our sounds of laughter. The ground was littered with our pawprints.

We collapsed in a giggling heap, our snowball fight coming to an end.

Dewstep had caught Shadefrost, and now they were sprawled on top of each other. He cleared his throat awkwardly and leaped back.

"Right, then," he said. "Let's continue on the patrol. We've wasted enough time as it is."

I flicked a tuft of snow away from Scorchpaw's ear. "Where's Featherpaw?" I asked suddenly, sitting up.

Scorchpaw sighed. "Geez, she's always wandering off. Maybe we'll catch a sight of her on our patrol."

He was right; she _was_ always lurking away from the group.

Shadefrost's brow was furrowed with worry. "Shouldn't we go search for her?"

I shrugged. "She always comes back."

Dewstep helped her up, and without another word, we continued on with the patrol with an extra bounce to our step.

The frosty air was overcome with another scent, a rotton stench that made my lip curl. Silverpaw had an ugly grimace on her face as we neared. The smell didn't cease, but instead grew stronger.

"ShadowClan," Shadefrost murmured. I had my fur fluffed up in faint panic. Shadefrost didn't seem afraid at all, or was it because she knew that no cat would dare hurt her?

"We're nearing their border," Dewstep explained. "I thought we should mark our scent here, instead of near WindClan." He didn't have to explain why. The battle was still fresh in my mind, even though it had happened a week ago. I remembered Silverpaw being held down by Onestar and Wolfpaw's horrified face that seemed so different from her usually calm and quiet personality.

The tree that had fallen was still stretched out in the middle of the camp, and luckily, it hadn't collapsed on a cat or a den. Dewstep muttered something about moving it when the warriors had the time.

I sheathed and unsheathed my claws, pressing them against the frozen ground. I didn't like WindClan at all.

After we had marked our scent all along the border, Shadefrost suggested, "Let's see if we can spot any prey."

Dewstep flicked his tail. "It'll be pretty hard. There's not usually any prey around during the first snow."

Nevertheless, Shadefrost flexed her muscles when a sparrow landed beneath a scraggly oak, flitting around to peck at the ground.

She crouched down and kept her tail low. A perfect hunter's crouch. As we watched in breathless silence, she crept forward in small steps, taking her time. She didn't rush.

She stalked along behind the tree, making sure that the sparrow's back was facing her.

However, at the last second, right before she made the final pounce, the bird hopped along, took a single look at her, and let out a warning cry before unfurling its wings and taking off. The cat made a diving jump toward it, but the sparrow was long gone by then.

"Bad luck," Dewstep muttered. "Your fur stands out too much against the snow."

She shrugged goodnaturedly. "I'm out of practice," she said. "I guess I still suck at hunting like before, right?"

Dewstep broke off in mid-step, as if remembering something. His eyes became distant. Then he shook his head and said, "We've finished marking our borders. Let's head back. We'll leave the hunting patrol to catch the sparrows." Beckoning with his tail, he padded away.

We trekked homeward, Shadefrost pausing now and then to admire a glimmering icicle hanging from a tree branch.

Something skirted along the edge of my vision, sending up flurries of snow in its wake.

"Featherpaw," I said. "Where were you? You missed the snowball fight."

Then I stopped and narrowed my eyes when I took a good look at her. She was bristling, her soft white fur coming up in harsh edges and her ears flat against her head.

Dewstep didn't waste any time in questioning her. "What is it?" he asked briskly. "WindClan intruders? Or-"

The question was left unfinished, lingering like a ghost, but I knew what he was going to say. _Or the killer?_

I unsheathed my claws. Wolfpaw was gazing all around her with an expression of intense concentration, and Scorchpaw had moved in next to me, as if shielding me and Silverpaw from some unknown force.

"Tell me, Featherpaw," Dewstep meowed urgently.

She panted. I then realized that she was trembling, ever so slightly. Shaking her head quickly, she turned to me and made several gestures with her tail.

I stiffened. "She saw something over there," I told the others. "Near the old Twoleg nest."

Featherpaw jumped forward to lead the way. We sprinted, hard on her heels, eager to meet our opponent.

Thoughts whizzed through my head. Was it another attack from WindClan? Or a badger? A fox?

The abandoned Twoleg shack rose into view. It was overrun with dried ivy that clung tightly to the crumbling walls like unraveling brown rope. The shingles had all but fallen off like oversized fish scales. Featherpaw rounded the corner and we followed. My breath came in short spurts. How much further?

Without warning, she skidded to a halt. I almost crashed into her, digging my claws in at the last second to slow me down.

She shivered, and not from the cold.

"What's this?" Shadefrost asked. There was something on the snow.

I leaned closer.

It was a mark. The mark of an animal. It was more than three inches long and was vaguely cat-like, but massive compared to ours.

"Look!" Silverpaw called. "There's more over here."

There was a pair of paw prints further up, easily four or five feet away.

And a set of smaller prints in between, narrow and flat.

"It ends here," Dewstep said, sniffing the tracks. "Whatever it was, it must've been chasing a rabbit. It could take up two whole tail-lengths with a single jump." His tone was partly grave and partly amused.

I flexed my claws in and out. What was so fascinating about this?

"There's something on our territory!" I hissed. "Something dangerous."

I scented the air, but could smell nothing other than cold frost. It was stale. The thing must have come here the night before on the fresh snow, before a second snowfall could wipe out all of its pawprints.

Scorchpaw was comparing his paw to the size of the print, shaking his head in disbelief when it dwarved his own puny paw by several inches.

"Unbelievable," he murmured. "What kind of creature did this?"

"It must be strong, too," Wolfpaw mused. "I wonder how large it really is."

Dewstep sat back. "Well, whatever it is, it's gone now. It must have moved on north."

No! Couldn't they sense it? That ominous feeling that chilled the back of my neck, prickling harsher than ice? It was so obvious! That lingering doom!

"Can't you feel it?" I snapped.

Silverpaw perked up. "Feel what? Don't worry, Stormpaw. The creature's gone now. And its scent is so stale that I can barely catch it."

But that feeling that surrounded this place; it made me shudder. A tiny voice was warning me about something, and it frustrated me because I didn't know what it was.

Maybe Shadefrost could understand? She could feel it too, couldn't she?

"It's okay," she said, licking my ear. "It's moved on ahead."

"No," I said with a grimace, pushing her away. How could they be so blind? It didn't take a pair of eyes to sense it! It was like a bad taste in my mouth that I couldn't get rid of. The huge, mysterious pawprint stared up at me, as wide as a dinner plate, bigger than an average cat's.

Featherpaw was huddled up next to me, staring wide-eyed at the print.

"Can you feel it too?" I whispered. "Please tell me you can."

She swallowed and nodded. Her still ruffled fur told me that she was telling the truth. She really could sense it.

So why couldn't the others feel it too?

Dewstep was already rounding them up and leading them away back to the Clan. Was he really not worried?

Of course he wasn't. He didn't sense it. He didn't know.

The creature was still here, somewhere. Sure as sure, I could feel it in the snow as well as in my bones.

"How come we're the only ones who know?" I asked Featherpaw.

She had broken away from the pawprint and was now casually licking her paw as if nothing had happened, but her hackles were still rising.

I padded toward her and draped my tail over her shoulder comfortingly. She shook it off and walked a few paces, away from my grasp.

This foreboding feeling wouldn't leave me, like a thunderhead looming above my head. I quickly caught up with the others and casted a last glance back at the Twoleg nest.

The pawprint would bring change to ThunderClan, the small voice told me. Maybe even change to all of the Clans. I just hope that everyone else would be able to realize it before it was too late.


	15. Chapter 14-Kings Are Dying Like Flies

CHAPTER 14-Kings Are Dying Like Flies

StarClan was a quiet place.

Maybe too quiet. There was nothing but the sound of the stars spinning and colliding and then hurling away from each other and the gentle pulsing of the galaxies as they faded to a soft lavender, and then to bright crimson, and back to a cold, silent black. Somewhere, there was the lilting singing of a gurgling stream.

A black she-cat trudged through the silver woods, her green eyes glinting in the soft light of the glowing leaves. She twitched her ears, angling them to filter in every sound.

Pushing her way through the ferns, she clenched her teeth and made a small noise of contempt.

Spinning around, she growled, "I've had enough of you, Snowstorm. Go away and leave me in peace!"

At the sound of his name, the white tom broke free from the tendrils and stood to face her, his amber eyes hard.

"Is StarClan not big enough for you?" the black she-cat continued, her green eyes hardening into a glare. "Are you bored with this place already? I can assure you, the universe is constantly expanding even as we speak. There are planets out there, stars being born, stars dying, black holes whizzing around space. Go occupy yourself with something else and leave me!"

"Shadowstar," Snowstorm said, his voice bitter and cold, yet still bordering on forced politeness. "I won't stop until I get what I want. Why can't you see that?"

"Foolish warrior," Shadowstar hissed, her tail lashing like a black serpent. She turned with a huff and continued stalking her way through the silver forest. Snowstorm followed without another word.

They passed high arching branches, trees as thick as mountains. Above them, numerous stars shone brightly against an endlessly swirling background of purple and black. Saturn's rings roared steadily as they passed it, the asteroids whirling past them with a gush of air. Beyond that, as far as the eye could see, were billions of stars and countless galaxies, none that were completely out of their reach.

Shadowstar continued to stride forward without a word, scrambling over rocks, sliding through bushes, without a sound. Her movements were stiff, as if in anger. Her gate suddenly quickened

The white warrior continued to pad after her, determined not to be left behind. He had never been in these parts of the woods before, but he had a feeling that he could never get lost here.

"Are you going to follow me all day?" Shadowstar hissed, glaring at him out of the corner of her eye.

His reply was quick. "The words 'day' and 'night' do not exist in StarClan. Everything is as it is." He curled his lip back into a snarl. "_Thunderstar _told me that. He told me everything."

"Ah, so you do know then," she replied. A milky-white river flowed in front of them. With a flying leap, she made her way across it in a single bound. The she-cat flicked her tail triumphantly, hoping that the tom would crash into the river and be washed away to some distant constellation.

Unfortunatley, Snowstorm made it across without any problem, copying her moves and sailing harmlessly through the air to land beside her.

Shadowstar halted. They faced each other, eyes narrowing into slits, amber meeting green. For a few seconds, it seemed that they would suddenly burst into fighting. The tension crackled in the air like electricity.

A red giant, a dying star, blew up mutely several miles away and was big enough to light up everything at once for just a few seconds, but they took no notice of it.

"If you've already talked to Thunderstar," Shadowstar spat, "then you should know why you can't see her."

"I do."

She meowed angrily, "No matter what happens, you _cannot _see her. We can't give her a reason to stay. She has to be sent back to her world as soon as possible. Honestly, I can't see why Bluestar and the others want to keep her here for a little bit longer."

"I want to talk to her," Snowstorm said, his amber eyes suddenly softening at the edges. "Please. Just for one moment. Can't you grant me that?" His voice became pleading.

It seemed that Shadowstar hovered on indecision. She lowered her gaze, her eyes darkening. Her shoulders went limp as she continued to think in silence. Snowstorm was hopeful.

Then she spoke. "No. You two can never meet ever again."

He widened at the words. They echoed over and over again in his mind. His heart dropped to his paws. Without holding back, he let out an ear-splitting screech of fury and bowled her over, pinning her down to the earthen floor. He held her securely down with one paw and unsheathed the other, holding it against her throat. He felt no pulse, not heartbeat at all, yet he knew there was still some force there that was holding her spirit.

Shadowstar didn't fight back but lay there limply, letting him press his claws against her neck. She wasn't afraid. She didn't even feel a slight spark of panic.

She knew the fact as well as him. Snowstorm wasn't a killer. They both understood clearly. No matter what happened, she knew that the warrior had enough self-control to hold back.

They stayed there for what seemed like an eternity. The warrior panted heavily, his fur bristling. Abruptly sheathing his claws, he stepped back and let her sit up.

She growled slightly, licking at her chest fur before looking up to stare at the starlit sky. Spiral galaxies slowly churned like clouds before spinning away. The colors lit everything up, and still she knew that Snowstorm had no taste for these kinds of things. _Give him time to adjust, _Thunderstar had said. _He's still in shock. _

She scoffed disdainfully. Give him time? It had already been years, and he still wanted to go back to the Lake.

She glanced at him. He was crouched down with his tail around his paws, staring up at the sky like her. Yet, his eyes were sad.

Shadowstar wanted to snap at him again, but then changed her mind and sighed instead. "It's about the newcomer," she said again slowly, as if explaining something complicated to a kit. "The Twoleg named Samantha. You've caught a glimpse at her through the Moonpool. She is the one who will fulfill the new prophecy and face the oncoming danger. Shadefrost is powerless to help this time. It is all up to Stormpaw. If she falls, then the world will go down with her."

Silence from the tom. He said nothing, wouldn't even look her in the eye.

She continued darkly, "Something big is coming our way. A massive storm. Don't you see, warrior? It is not only the Clans who are in trouble. It is the whole world. No, bigger than that. The entire universe. You know what the foxes say are true."

She lifted her head and repeated the phrase that had already been passed down so many tongues. _"The storm is brewing. Everything has a beginning, and everything has an end. Nothing is everlasting except for one and one thing only: the universe that has no borders. But it will come on dark days; the Elder and the Younger, who have protected the universe for so long, have vanished without a trace. The earth had survived for so many centuries without them, but now, their absence is taking its toll. Ground is shaking. Skies are falling. The universe will crumble and cease to be."_

She blinked. "We have translated those words from the foxs' language. They have carved that message into their very body and soul, believing it like how the Clan cats believe in us." She lowered her head. _"The Two Beings have abandoned this world, but the universe had a will to live and keep on living. However, without the Two Beings to overlook and nurture it, it will eventually fade away to nothingness. Everything will end. The sun. The moon. The stars. The days are numbered."_

Snowstorm snorted in disbelief. Shadowstar wanted to scold him for not showing respect to the oldest spirit in StarClan, but then decided against it.

He muttered, "Who cares about what the foxes think? Last time I checked, they were our enemies. It's all just a bunch of thistledown. Nursery stories to keep the kits awake at night."

"That's where you're wrong. What the foxes say are true."

"And how do you know that?"

"You ask so many meaningless questions. Then let me ask you: how do souls live on, even in the afterlife? What lies at the end of the universe? Why do we become who we are? How did life come to be? What is the meaning of life, and why does anything exist? See? Answer my questions, and I'll answer yours."

She looked up just in time to see asteroids colliding with each other, crashing into each other like oversized boulders. Even in StarClan, space was never still. It moved. It even breathed, as if it was alive.

"I do believe," she meowed. "with all my heart and soul, that the Two Beings had lived, once upon a time. They created the universe and carved the earth out themselves. But then they got into a fight with each other and eventually left."

"Where did they go, then? How can they just disappear?"

"Nobody knows, not even the foxes. That is the great mystery that we are trying to solve."

"Still sounds like a bunch of nonsense to me."

"I know."

He shot her a glare. "And what does this have to do with me seeing Shadefrost?"

"Don't worry about Shadefrost. It is her companion that is important right now. Stormpaw is the key to everything. We sense something strange about her."

"The fact that she's a Twoleg?"

"No, more than that. She carries something in her soul, something hidden. The Moonpool has felt it too. It's as if..." Her voice trailed off uncertainly.

Snowstorm raised an eyebrow skeptically.

The she-cat continued, "It's as if there is something inside her. It's trying to get out. Kicking its way through. I can feel it. Sometimes I can even hear it. A strange power, or a force, locked tight inside her and only she knows how to get it out."

"And this is important because...?"

She was beginning to grow frustrated. What could possibly make this mouse-brain understand? How could she tell him that the end of the world was drawing near? She spat, "She is the only thing we have that we can use to find the answer. Some of the StarClan warriors think that she may be something more than a mere Twoleg. That's why we had to choose Stormpaw. She has something that everyone else lacks. And it is forbidden for you to see Shadefrost because, like I've said before, we can't give her a reason to stay in ThunderClan."

Snowstorm opened his mouth to protest, but she rounded on him and growled, "You know Shadefrost as well as I do. She will try to help Stormpaw. She will try to interfere with her path. We can't let that happen, ever. Stormpaw alone is the answer. If someone takes her destiny for her, then the world really will turn into chaos."

She lumbered forward and spat, "The Moonpool had made such a terrible mistake in letting Shadefrost back here. She doesn't belong. And not in a bad way," she added when Snowstorm began to growl. "Don't get it wrong. StarClan is grateful to her for saving us before, but her story is over. Now it is time for the storm to take her place."

He sighed. "And if you're right...if the Two Beings really did exist once...and if something goes wrong, then the universe really will end?"

Shadowstar curled her lip back into a half smile, half snarl. "You're finally catching on. That's right."

"But the earth is as great as ever! The sun is still shining steadily. The trees are still growing, the animals are still living. How can you say that everything will end when everything is still continuing on as it did milleniums before?"

She frowned angrily, her relief evaporating into the air. Her voice trembled. "Are you blind? Can't you see that everything is falling apart? The world is deathly ill. For as far back as I can remember, the Twolegs have built great creatures, great machines that rip up entire forests and burn the skies into ashes. They've ruined the seas. They've destroyed the jungles. They've made a mess of the entire place, turning the earth into nothing but wasteland! And it is not so much an external illness than an internal one. The sickness is touching everything."

"A disease?"

"Not literally. It is like a sickness of the heart. It effects every creature, not only Twolegs. It turns the heart and spirit as black as the night. It makes one forget about all about the happiness and think only of darkness. Eventually, the sickness makes them wither and die, but it goes on to affect others. It makes them hate when there is no reason to hate, lose hope when there is no reason to. There is hardly any peace left in this world. Fighting happens all over, for reasons so stupid that I wonder if there is something wrong with their minds.

Did you know, Snowstorm, that hardly anybody these days has any room left in their hearts to love? Everybody hates everybody else. It astounds me. They think only of the bad things and forget about the rest. _Mercy_ and _forgiveness_ has become so scarce that many have already forgotten the meaning of those words.

And that's not all. Sometimes people decide to torment others just for the sake of it. It is happening everywhere you look for, such silly reasons. Someone is different than everyone else? They are immediatley banished and looked down upon. Someone said something that is 'wrong'? They are yelled at and shut out instead of listened and explained to. They think that the only solution to every problem is to fight and argue!

It is a cruel, hateful world, Snowstorm! Do you see it now? Not an ounce of purity exists now that the Beings have left. Hatred! Destruction! Loathing! It has become rampant like a plague."

She could see that she had his attention now. His amber eyes were wide with alarm. "Is is really that bad?" he gasped. "I had no idea." He looked up at the stars, as if he could search for the answers there. "Then...it seems that the world really is dying."

"Yes. Eventually, the world will eat itself out and reveal that it is rotton to the core. Nothing will remain except for ashes and corruption. Violence is everywhere. The forests are dwindling. The animals, too, are being driven so close to extinction that eventually they will all cease to exist. The era for peace is over. Or did it ever even begin?"

Snowstorm hesitated, his face still bearing an expression of shock. "And...you think that Stormpaw can stop all of the madness?"

"Yes. She is our only hope."

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. The words of an age-old prophecy danced on her tongue. "_All the world would turn dim if our storm would vanish. The sun would turn to ice, the stars would disappear. Rage and desire would become nothing but stone. Everything would turn to chaos if the storm ever ceased."_

The white warrior narrowed his eyes. "Are you sure?"

For a while she didn't answer, but instead watched the milky silver drip down the vines that grew around the glowing oaks.

She flattened her ears, her eyes widening suddenly into a look of overwhelming despair. "You don't know how terrified I am, Snowstorm." The tom took a startled step back. She continued, "Stormpaw may be our key, but even she can destroy the world itself if she wants to. What ever path she takes is her choice. Sooner or later, she will realize that her destiny is in her paws."

She closed her eyes and seemed all at once more timid, as if she had never been a Clan leader. "There is an old saying of the foxes. 'Where light goes, darkness follows'. That can mean a lot of things, don't you think? There is a deeper meaning in there that I try to forget, which is why I don't think about it that often. But the point is, Snowstorm, that you should leave Shadefrost alone. We should all leave her be. Her time has come to an end."

She stared off into the distance. "Enjoy the afterlife while you still can, Snowstorm. There might not be much time left."


	16. Not an actual chapter

**Hellooo~**

**This isn't actually a chapter, I'll post the real one right after I finish this. **

**Since I'm kinda forgetful, I keep having to go back to the older chapters to remind myself what the characters look like. It's becoming really bothersome, so I decided to make 'profiles' of them so I can keep track. They're just references that I use so I don't mess up their appearances and personalities, but I included it here in case you might be interested :) It's kind of long.**

**(Again, you don't have to read all of it, this is just for me so I can memorize the characters' traits)**

Name: **Stormpaw (Samantha Piper)-**tortoiseshell she-cat with green eyes

Personality: Aggressive, confident, and bold.

Unlike Ashley, she is not afraid to challenge others and is willing to dive into things head-first. She prefers to do things her own way instead of listening to others, a trait which often gets her into trouble. Stormpaw tends to act a bit rude and brash at times, preferring to act first and think later. She despises her enemies but are fiercely protective of her friends, never hesitating to stand up for them. She is very close to Ashley, often defending and protecting her because no one else will. Shadefrost doesn't have to worry about journeying alone, since she knows that Stormpaw will always be there to back her up.

However, despite her bold personality, she has a sadness hidden deep inside her, revolving around an incident that happened in high school, a secret that she can't even bring herself to tell Ashley. She definitley is brave in some ways, but not so much in others. If only she realized that she is never alone, that there _is _a way to get rid of the monster eating away at her sadness...

Quotes: "Because. Because I had fists of steel and a shield made out of iron and a dagger in my tongue, but sometimes my metal turns to nothing but jelly and I don't want to be Sam anymore, I want to switch minds and lives with someone else and just walk in an empty desert with no people and be anyone but me." (Ch 11)

Name: **Ashley (Shadefrost) **-black she-cat with dark brown eyes, scar on flank from Darkling

Personality: Shy, thoughtful, kind. Although she is a lot braver and isn't as shy as before, she is still the same Shadefrost that stumbled into ThunderClan so many years before. Most of the time, she keeps quiet because she doesn't know what to say, and is terrible at having conversations with strangers because her shyness often gets the better of her. She is polite and kind to everyone, and is willing to lend a helping hand to those in need. Ashley knows that there is something bothering Sam, and tried to get her to talk about it in the past. She wants to help, but just doesn't know how, and can only watch as her friend struggles through her hardships.

Name: **Silverpaw- **light grey tabby she-cat with darker stripes, blue eyes

Personality: Bubbly, happy-go-lucky, sweet. She is an optimistic and cheerful cat who prefers to live in the moment instead of worrying about the future. She's not very bright, though, and prefers to sleep in weird positions that look awkward to other cats. She is curious. Nothing much angers her, and she is pretty open to everyone and everything. When she sees someone feeling down, she tries her best to cheer them up (although most of the time, she just ends up annoying them). She is the life of the party: outgoing, loud, and joyful.

Name: **Wolfpaw- **dark blue-grey she-cat with broad shoulders, white patch on chest, blue eyes

Personality: Careful, calm, self-disciplined. Wolfpaw is the opposite of her sister: she is calm and quiet like water, cool and deep, reflecting the open sky. She doesn't talk much because she prefers to think and keep her thoughts to herself. Wolfpaw is the oldest and strongest of the apprentices, and pushes herself to become even tougher. Even though she isn't as vocal as Silverpaw, she still cherishes her Clan and Clanmates. In the _very_ rare moments when she does get really frustrated or angry or even furious, she glares instead of yells.

Name: **Scorchpaw- **white tom with ginger patches, green eyes

Personality: Serious, determined, diligent. He is similar to Dewstep because of his loyalty and boldness, but is different in other ways as well. He is a diligent follower of the warrior code. He has an air of authority around him, even though he is only an apprentice, and every cat is certain that he will grow into a proud warrior, maybe even a deputy. He doesn't like to fool around, mainly because he is convinced that it makes him look foolish and idiotic. However, he breaks that rule a lot when he is with Silverpaw and the other apprentices, as he can't help but join in with the fun. He is tidy and neat, with his fur well-groomed, and becomes exasperated when everyone else can't seem to follow his example. He doesn't like becoming dirty and cleans out the apprentices' den himself every week to make sure it stays spotless.

Name: **Featherpaw- **white she-cat with pale grey spots on back, green eyes

Personality: Independent, fearless, straightforward. Because of her condition, she is unable to talk or make a sound. She often gets frustrated just because of that: She has all those bottled up emotions inside her, and can't let it out or tell her problems to anyone. Featherpaw often seems short-tempered and bitter, but it is only because she can't get rid of her anger inside her heart, and can only let it stay buried inside her chest and simmer. Has a faint grudge against StarClan for taking away her voice. In reality, she has a serious and very disciplined mentality that makes it hard for her to loosen up and have fun with the others. Not that she would want to. She feels like an outcast; no one seems to notice her except her mother. It's as if she is invisible, and very early in her life, she became determined to prove to everyone that she is a warrior worthy of their respect. Featherpaw believes that in order to be strong, she has to be independent and not rely on anyone. She believes that friends aren't necessary in the path of a warrior; they are just there to cheer you on. Courage and strength are more important to her, and she often dreams of herself as a powerful leader.

Little does she know, that the arrival of Stormpaw into her life would eventually change her beliefs...

Name: **Atlas-**typical European rabbit, dark brown eyes

Personality: He's only been shown twice, so not much is known about him, including his past and objective. And what's that mysterious bag he always keeps with him? What's in there?

He seems to be an eccentric person, maybe even a bit of an oddball. He is weird, to say the least, but friendly. Too friendly, even, since he is willing to make friends with a cat. Because of this, he is also daring and willing to take risks.

Name: **Dewstep**-dark grey tom with amber eyes, scars everywhere from battle with Fang and Darklings

Personality: Serious, hard-working, loyal. He is a warrior who can be quite stern and serious at times, but his true self is much different. He is loyal to his Clan and is willing to defend it with his life. Is courageous, doesn't shrink back from enemies, and has many traits that make him a strong leader. He often puts others' needs before his own.

Name: **Ember**-typical red fox, yellowish-brown eyes

Personality: Honest, helpful, tough. Ember was a lot different before she met Ashley. Fang's personality had rubbed off on her so much that she used to be just like an ordinary fox: frisky and intent on revenge, with a burning hatred toward the cats. Now, she is much calmer and wiser. She is quieter and not as energetic as before, but her playful side does come out now and then. Ember gets her calm and kind side from Shadefrost's influence, and gentleness and warmth from Snowstorm. When she is provoked, her true fox self erupts and she won't hesitate to hurt anyone who comes after her companions (that fierce loyalty trait is from Dewstep). She likes to tease Stormpaw and annoy her, but just does it for fun.

During Shadefrost's absence, she and Dewstep grew closer together. Since she knows that some of the cats still bear grudges on her, she tends to stay away from the camp and on the hill near WindClan territory. On most nights, Dewstep goes out to visit her, and the two sit side by side on the moor to watch the stars come out.

Name: **Snowstorm-**fluffy white tom, amber eyes, one ear chewed off during fight with foxes as an apprentice

Personality: Compassionate, gentle, polite. He is a really kind tom who is very supportive of Shadefrost and Dewstep. He isn't as fierce as his brother, although he can be when his friends' lives are on the line. May hold grudges, but is quick to forgive. He is trustworthy and dependable, and Shadefrost fell in love with him because of his gentleless and compassion.

Name: **Spottedblaze- **tawny tom, speckled with darker markings like a leopard's; green eyes

Personality: Faithful, sensitive, adventurous. Back when he was an apprentice, he was a timid youngster who quivered at the sight of his own shadow. Now, he's grown up to be a righteous warrior who is loyal to his Clanmates and the warrior code. He's more sure of himself and has a stronger esteem. He is a lot braver, and is light-hearted and generally happier. Spottedblaze cherishes his companions and thinks of their own needs before his own. Sometimes he dreams of journeying away from the forest to visit unknown lands, but doesn't know if he should.

Although he is much braver than he was before, he still tends to get surprised easily. Instead of diving head-first into problems, he carefully studies it before going in. Whenever he or his Clanmates are in serious trouble, he loses his head and freaks out, only calming down when a more able cat takes control of the situation.


	17. Chapter 15-You're Disgusting

CHAPTER 15-You're Disgusting

The monster was ugly. As ugly as the stench of sour milk. Like the feeling you'd get when you should have done something, anything, but knew all too well that it was too late.

It was always there, from as far back as I could remember; lounging lazily on the cabinet, hiding behind the door and hoping to jump out when I least expected it, or dozing away on the windowsill. It was hideous, gurgling like a toad and blinking slowly, first one eye and then the other, two milky-white pupils that looked blind and unseeing. Sometimes it resided underneath my bed, trying to snap up my toes as I slept. More than once, I awoke in the middle of the night with its hot breath on my face and its eyes glowing in the dark. It gurgled with glee. It knew exactly how I felt about it. We shared our thoughts together.

Many times, when I was all alone and the lights in my room wouldn't come on, I would sit on my bed, hugging my knees tightly against my chest because I had no one else to hold onto, hearing the thunder clash again and again inside my head. The mattress would dip underneath the sheer weight of the monster as it clambered on next to me, staring at my face without a word. My shadow seemed thin and queer against the wall, like it belonged to a thin woman instead of me. One shadow, not two. Always one.

_They don't understand you, _it chuckled, its hideous nostrils flaring. _Never do, do 'ee? You're just an outcast. Worm in an apple. _

I didn't reply. Who was there to talk to? Nobody. Nobody at all. It was just me, hugging my knees in the quiet dark.

_Thass right, girlie, _the monster burped. _Nobody. You're Nobody, you know that? Nobody at all. Everybody else is Somebody. But you're Nobody. Nobody at all._

I hugged my knees tighter, clenched my teeth. It was raining, pounding down hard, churning the skies into puddles, but the sidewalks were completely dry outside.

I turned away. The monster followed me with its milky eyes that were wide and goggling, like a corpse's eyes staring up from a coffin. Blind and not seeing, yet taking everything in at the same time.

It oozed. _Ooh, lassie. The world's done a number on you, hassn' it? Don't you think you could fight back? Yell back? Change the world? But you can't, Nobody. You ain't ssstrong enough. _

The rain was pouring now, thicker than a waterfall, easily drenching everything in its wake like a flood. My room had turned into an aquarium. Outside, not a drop of water fell.

Somebody cares, I thought. Somebody will come get me.

_Somebody? Eh. Nobody cares about Nobody. Nobody will save you. Nobody will come for you. Nobody cares, not a care in the world. Awful. _

It breathed poisonous fumes into my face, and it said, _Seven billion people in the world, lassie. Seven billion. Enough people in the world. Nobody needs you. Nobody cares. Seven billion already to take care of. _

The edges of my vision jumped and wavered. Wetness.

The monster leaned forward and hissed in my ear, _You're not perfect._

It sat on my chest and wouldn't get off. There was a dark feeling in there. Something churning and stormy and black. Despairing thoughts, like flies, flickered through my vision. I clenched my teeth down hard. I wouldn't cry. No matter what, I wouldn't cry. I had made a vow after my ninth birthday. I could not, would not cry no matter what happened. Even if the monster tore me limb from limb, I would not give in.

The monster was all in my head, I told myself. And it was true. He was invisible to everyone but me. After all, who else could see my sadness? My misery?

You know that feeling you get somewhere down the road that life doesn't seem very fulfilling? That empty feeling in your soul. That there is something wrong, but you don't know what, and it eats at you and eats at you until you become nothing but blue and melancholy. That feeling that makes you wake up in the morning with the sun streaming down your window, and still, you turn away and think, _Ugh. I have to face another day. _

Or that feeling when you sprawl out on the sofa, hugging a carton of ice cream, feeling incredibly heavy and gross. You haven't bothered to comb your hair or brush your teeth. You just want to stay on the sofa like lead for the rest of the day and wake up to waste another.

It rained in my bedroom a lot, but I wasn't quite sure why. Maybe because of my parents' arguments every night. Doors slamming like fingers busting keys in a piano, belching out an awful tune. Heavy feet thomping on the floorboards. Weary, sagging eyes. Sighs. Empty people lying on the sofa, as limp as rags, flicking through the T.V. channels but not seeing anything, not feeling anything.

Or maybe it was because of the daily taunts. Bullies. Mean jokes. Classmates turning away from me with disdainful glances.

Or the sinking Titanic. Star-crossed lovers. So many, so many that I had tried to forget but my brain, the monster, still insisted on remembering. Deleted contacts. Cold, hard-clipped voices, void of the affection that had once bound us. I had been in love so many times, yet they had all left me, one by one, leaving me broken and cracked like porcelain.

It licked its lips and belched loudly. I couldn't help but flinch. _Yes, yes, Nobody. Keep remembering. Keep thinking. It never rains but it pours. You know what's inside you? Emptiness. Black hole. Crack! There goes your heart. Now it's in two. Who's there to fix you up, darling? Nobody. That's who. You've got nobody but yourself. _

I couldn't get rid of the monster, no matter how hard I tried. It was too huge to budge. It sat like a dead weight on my chest, crushing me, draining me and filling me with a feeling of dread. It gazed back at me whenever I stared at the mirror.

The monster had my eyes.

I had hoped, by running away, I could leave it behind and let it wither away in my room. Wither away all of those ugly memories that haunted me wherever I went.

The flashback faded and I was whizzed back inside the dark, quiet den, a million miles away from home. It was so quiet that I could hear her soft breathing. The moss rustled dryly when I awkwardly shifted my paws.

I wish that I was whizzed a million miles away from her. I didn't want her to see me like this.

Her brown eyes glowed in the dark. I wondered if mine did too. This reminded me of the many sleepovers that we had had when we were younger. We would turn off the lights until it was pitch-dark and pull the blankets over our faces, creating little tents and forts with them. We would giggle.

Only now, none of us felt like giggling.

"How long are you planning on staying here?" Shadefrost asked.

I didn't answer her. Instead, I focused on the space right next to her head. A spider was making its silver home there.

She pressed on. "You should be going back soon. Everyone misses you." She paused, as if expecting me to answer.

The spider dangled on a single strand of thread, hanging on by a lifeline. It suddenly lost its footing and was whirled into the air. Only the silk thread attached to its rear kept it from crashing to its death.

She continued quietly, "Your parents especially. They were in such a panic when you didn't come home. They've called the police and everything. They've even put out posters. _Lost child: See picture and description below. Reward,_" she recited, as if she had read it so many times that it was now burned into her memory.

I was quiet. The spider arched its back, wiggling its legs, trying to climb its way back up the wall.

Shadefrost straightened up. She gazed at me mournfully. "Your parents," she said. "You know they love you."

_Yes, yes, _I thought impatiently.

In an instant, the spider had disappeared, leaving its web half-made and incompleted. It had plummeted onto the ground.

I wondered. Now that it was dead, who would be there at its funeral?

"Sam," she said, suddenly all too snappish.

I jumped, startled at her tone, before calming down. I began to groom my ruffled fur for lack of anything else to do. Her eyes were burning into my skull.

_Say something, _by brain urged me. Tell Ashley. Tell her everything that happened. The rain in your bedroom. The monster on your chest. The Titanic and the iceberg who were never meant to be together.

I opened my mouth and thought about what I wanted to say. She was staring at me expectantly, waiting for an answer.

A million thoughts flashed past my mind. A million reasons. I wanted to tell her, _I wish there was someone who would take me out of this rain, _or _Sometimes there's a sadness that eats away at me until I'm just a shell, _and I hoped that she would understand.

I opened my mouth, the words so close on my tongue that I could taste it.

But instead of saying all that, I replied, "I'm not going back home. _Ever." _and crossed my fingers and hoped that, somehow and maybe, it would mean the same thing.

Her gaze widened in disbelief. Her tail swished behind her. Furrowing her brow, she meowed, "But how can you say that? You're a human." _Wrong, _I thought. "Or at least, you were born a human." _Wrong again. _"So please, come back home. Everybody misses you." Her expression was pleading.

I turned my head away and made an indignant noise through my nose. "I actually like it here, thank you very much," I said. "This place is my home now."

She gasped. "But...But _Sam."_

Without any warning, my composure snapped. I rounded on her, my teeth bared and my claws out. She shied away.

I snapped, "Don't call me that! My name is Stormpaw now. I have decided to stay. Nothing will change my mind."

She blinked at me with a worried expression. In a quiet voice, she asked, "Even if-?"

"Even if the devil himself rose out from hell to drag me back to the city, I'll dig my claws in and howl my head off if I have to. I. Am. Not. Going. Back. _There." _I spat the last word out as if it was filth.

She wouldn't meet my glare. She shuffled her paws on the moss.

"Why?" she whispered. "Why are you so insistent? Is the warrior life really what you want?"

I lashed my tail and looked off in the opposite direction. "Yes. I'm free now."

_Free in more ways than one, _I thought in my mind. "I love it here. I'm never going back to that dump."

Shadefrost's face suddenly hardened. Staring straight at me, she growled softly, "Don't you know that you're making so many people worry about you? Your parents look so tired. The police are doing everything they can to find you. It's hectic."

I shrugged carelessly. "That's so hard to believe. Nobody wants me back."

She bursted out, "But _I _want you!"

I gave her a short, cruel laugh, filled with a sudden sadness. "Oh yeah? You and what army? Nobody cares that I'm gone. In fact, I'd say that they're celebrating about it right now."

She stiffened, her jaw gaping in disbelief. She was at a loss for words.

"Oh, you thought I didn't know?" I growled. "You're terrible at lying. I know the truth. The teachers are relieved that they don't have to give me detentions and spit in my face. My classmates probably don't even care. They probably don't notice. So I'm staying here where I belong! Where I'm free! When I can do anything, whenever I want and wherever I want!"

Without waiting for a reply, I turned stiffly and stalked out of the den, every hair on my body quivering. I wanted to tip my head back and scream out my frustration. I wanted to close my eyes and never get up again. The crushing feeling on my chest was so suffocating.

I felt like I was sinking into a dark and cavernous ocean with an anchor tied to my leg. No matter how hard I kicked or writhed, the anchor weighed me down and kept me from drawing a single breath of air. I was sinking, deeper and deeper all the while.

And now, after I had blurted all that out to her, after I convinced myself that nobody really did care, I heaved a sigh of defeat and sat down.

I had run so far. Far away from that room, away from that house, away from that city. I had never run so far and so fast in my life than I had in this past month. I ran because I was tired of facing the monster every day. I was tired of the rain in my bedroom.

I had hoped to leave all of those memories behind and start anew. Maybe the monster couldn't follow me here, I had thought. Maybe he's still stuck in that room a million leagues away.

Oh, how wrong I had been. The hollow feeling in my chest was still as persistent as ever.

The monster had slithered away from my room and had followed me all the way here. It perched on my shoulder and grinned like the Cheshire cat.

_Found you, _it gurgled. _Little Miss Nobody. You think you can run, eh? I'll let you in on a little secret: you can't hide from me, because you can't hide from yourself. I am you, and you are me. We're stuck together. But don't worry, Nobody. I will protect you. I love you, you know. I love you so, so very much. _

I tasted bile on its breath. The acid rose in my throat. I wanted to retch. The ocean sat on top of me, crushing me under its unbearable weight, the anchor dragging me down, down, and down.

_You know another little secret? I know the meaning of life. It's this: absolutely nothing. There is no meaning! Life is pointless! Why get up when you are going to die anyway? Just give it up! Give it all up! Your life is worth nothing. You're not perfect, and you never will be. So why bother trying? Just give up._

And I really, honestly and truly, wanted to give up right then and there. I was just so tired of running.

"Stormpaw?"

A little voice. I glanced up to see Scorchpaw looming in front of me. He looked concerned.

"You don't look too good," he mewed, his voice tight with worry. "Should I get Jayfeather?"

I blinked at him dumbly, too startled to answer. Then I sighed and slowly eased myself up.

Forcing a smile on my face, I mewed, "No, I'm fine."

When he spoke again, he sounded relieved. "That's great, then. Although you do look tired."

Oh, you don't know how tired I really am, I thought. So tired of the world.

But I still had Ashley, and Scorchpaw, and Silverpaw, Wolfpaw, and Featherpaw. I can't let the monster get the better of me. It's still too early to give up.

_Soon, _it chuckled, and its grin widened. _You will see that everything is pointless._

I merely waved it away as easily as brushing dust from my pelt and bounded off to join Scorchpaw.

OoOOoooOOOOOOOOOOoooOoOooOoOooOOOooOo

The howling wind brought with it the scent of faraway lands. We were all gathered in the middle of the camp, huddled together because of the cold, sharing tongues and generally just lazying around and making a mess of things.

I stood still, my fur ruffled and blown along by the wind like sparse grass, and let Featherpaw groom it. I felt her tongue rasp through my pelt like coarse sandpaper.

This was the first time she had ever been this close to me. Most of the time, we would just sit side-by-side, her tail curled stiffly around her paws and our coats never touching.

_Don't, _her eyes always seemed to say.

But this time, she let my fur brush against hers. I could tell how hard she was concentrating. Her gaze bored into the back of my skull, thoughtful and quiet like a watching crow's.

I shifted uncomfortably when I felt her gentle breathing against my neck. She continued grooming, fluffing up my pelt until it shone like gloss.

I felt a low growl at the back of her throat. _Stop fidgeting, _the growl said.

Beside me, Silverpaw nudged her half-eaten sparrow over to Scorchpaw.

"I'm not hungry anymore," she mewled. "You finish it."

He sighed. "You should take advantage of the snow while you still can. Be grateful that there's still a lot of prey running around. It'll get scarcer as leaf-bare goes on."

She pushed him playfully. "Gross," she mewed, wrinkling her nose, although the glimmer in her gaze hinted that she was only joking. "You're starting to sound like old Dewstep now. 'Don't waste prey!' 'Be grateful to StarClan!'" she said, imitating his voice.

I looked up, but then turned my head away when Shadefrost trudged toward me. A raven was held firmly in her mouth.

Shoving away some snow, she plopped down next to me with a muffled greeting. I didn't answer her.

Nosing the prey toward me, she said, "You haven't eaten yet. Aren't you hungry?"

Shaking my head slowly, I averted my gaze and did my best impression of Featherpaw by closing my mouth and refusing to speak.

Shadefrost only blinked at me fondly, her expression neither angry nor upset. "You should eat. Keep up your strength. Winter here can be deadly."

_I know that, _I shot back in my mind. Did she think that I was some brain-dead kit who can't take care of herself?

Ember and Dewstep made their way toward us. They settled down next to Shadefrost. The fox glanced around the clearling awkwardly, as if she knew that she shouldn't be so close to the camp, before dipping her head down to devour a pigeon.

Shadefrost furrowed her brow. "Is there something that you wanna say?" she asked me.

My ears perked up. Featherpaw kept grooming me, her eyes closed and oblivious to the conversation.

Oh. Of course. There are a lot of things that I wanted to tell Ashley.

"Speak up, then," she said, noticing the look on my face. "If there's something you want, then just say it."

I frowned. Then I turned away.

There had been some traces lingering on the air these past few weeks. An icy aroma, like frost slithering down my throat. It was so thick that I could actually taste it on my tongue.

A cold feeling, like something bad was going to happen. Was this what they called _instinct? _Maybe I could sense it because I was an animal now. Featherpaw could feel it too.

But how come nobody else could? Not even Shadefrost or Bramblestar?

All at once, the air shifted as if someone had parted it like a curtain and dropped a few degrees lower. Ignoring Featherpaw's annoyed huff and the looks I got from the others, I abruptly stood up and scented the air.

Wolfpaw asked quietly, "Stormpaw...?"

"Someone's coming!" I shouted, right as several warriors hurled themselves into the camp.

Streamtail's and Blossomfall's eyes were wide with fright, as if some beast had chased them all the way here. The rest of the patrol were just as terrified.

"Bramblestar!" Streamtail screeched.

Instantly, we had all leaped to our paws.

"What's happening?" Dewstep hissed. A gleam of fear flickered in his gaze. Ember looked wary.

My heart thudded quickly in my chest as Bramblestar made his way from his den.

"Yes?" he said urgently, his hackles rising when he noticed the alarmed looks of the patrol. "Did you spot something?"

Streamtail stammered, "W-we-"

She was cut off as my Clanmates exploded into a frenzy of hissing.

Someone was coming through the gorse tunnel. I spotted a hulking and bulky shape, and as my spine turned icy with fear, I realized that this creature was much too big to be a cat, although it did have a certain feline form.

I made my way closer to the crowd to get a better look.

Dewstep hissed, "Stormpaw, get back here!" but I paid him no mind.

I peered over the tops of my Clanmates' heads and immediatley stiffened when a whiff of something hit me full in the face. It was a tangy smell, but familiar too. It reminded me of woodlands and trees and deep, frosty snow. My hackles rose.

Bramblestar arched his back, growling as he faced the sudden intruder.

Calmly, out of the shadows, a shape stepped into view.

Huge, wide paws that seemed as if they could crush a cat with a single blow. I gasped in surprised when I recognized their shape. They matched the pawprints perfectly.

Long, tufted ears. A faintly speckled grayish-brown coat. A wide, scarred face with its jaws slightly parted, revealing a glint of sharp teeth. Huge, muscled hindquarters, and thick fur that made the creature seem much larger than it actually was.

I heard Shadefrost gasp softly beside me. We both recognized it.

Lynx.

In our camp. _Our _camp! And he didn't look too friendly, either.

I had no idea that they were so huge. He towered above the cats and loomed ominously, dwarfing even Bramblestar. Several cruel scars etched his features and slashed across both of his eyes. He surveyed the camp silently, taking it all in. He didn't seem to notice the cats who stood frozen before him and the muted fear that hung around the camp.

The lynx had fiery eyes that pierced straight through me like a knife through butter, as sharp as arrows. His shoulders were as massive as boulders, his fur mottled and colored grey like stormy skies. All around him clung the scent of rain and dust.

More rustling from beyond the gorse tunnel and the soft crunch of snow underneath enormous, frightening paws.

Three more heads loomed out, three more lynxes who padded forward to stand beside the first. They weren't as huge, but I could tell from their jagged teeth and sheer size that they were just as dangerous.

There were more of them beyond the barrier. Was it a whole group of them? I couldn't help but curl my lip back into a savage snarl. It helped mask my fear.

One of them, a male that looked thinner and younger, caught my eye. He stared at me for a heartbeat, as if uncertain about something, but then brightened and gave me a wide grin. I wasn't sure if he was just trying to be friendly or not. His large yellow fangs glinted in the cold sun, and his grin looked more like a harsh grimace than an actual smile, making him appear like he was snarling.

_Don't provoke me, _I thought silently. _I'll rip your throat out if you ask for it._

I didn't smile back. To my satisfaction, his grin faltered and he scuffled his paws, hurt.

Silverpaw, Wolfpaw, Scorchpaw and Featherpaw were fanned out on either side of me, their claws already out, ready to fight. Without hesitating, Dewstep ducked in front of us and lashed his tail, a warning in his voice. "Sheath your claws," he hissed.

Scorchpaw hesitated. "But-"

"Do as I say!" the warrior mewed again, and this time, there was a trace of fear in his amber gaze. "If these creatures think that we're hostile, they won't hesitate to fight back. We can't give them a reason to attack us. I don't think we stand a chance of winning if they do."

Something in my mind clicked. Shadefrost and I must be the only ones who knew what lynxes were. But I still found some sense in what he said. Those enormous paws looked as if they could crack our skulls open with a single swipe. And those jaws were heavy and sharp. I flinched when I imagined the teeth sinking into my neck.

The first lynx surveyed the camp once again. His face, heavy and scarred, seemed emotionless. I could see the rippling of his muscles underneath his shaggy grey coat. The ones standing beside him didn't look weak either.

For a second, a trill of alarm surged in my ears like a red light flashing on and off. Would we really have to fight these beasts? And what did they want from us?

Even Bramblestar seemed at a loss for words. He arched his back and spat again, daring the intruders to take a step further. Even the ThunderClan leader, with his long claws and jagged teeth, was no match for the towering lynxes. Still, he wouldn't back down that easily.

I clenched my teeth. And I wouldn't be defeated that easily either. I was willing to fight for my new home and prove myself worthy of a warrior's life. Maybe I could finally show Shadefrost that I really was destined for this! I itched to sink my claws into fur.

Everyone suddenly stiffened when the first lynx opened his mouth. He parted his jaws slightly, scenting the air, before staring at Bramblestar.

He growled, but it wasn't a normal growl. It was more like a series of grunts and muttering, like he was trying to say something.

I swiveled my ears but said nothing. I could feel tension building up in the Clanmates around me.

The lynx dipped his massive head down to whisper to the one next to him, the same young male that I had first locked gazes with.

His eyes abruptly widened and he blinked up at the lynx, as if he wasn't sure what he just heard. However, the older one only nodded to him firmly, his mouth set in a grim line. Were they going to fight us or what?

The younger one took a deep breath and stepped forward cautiously.

To my surprise, he smiled reassuringly, the grin smoother now, although the sight of his enormous fangs brought a trill of alarm. And what he did next was shocking.

He actually _talked. _

"Hello?" he mewed, in a voice that had a slight, almost unnoticeable accent. But his words were clear. He was actually talking to us. I thought that Ember and Midnight were the only ones who knew how to speak to cats?

All around me, my Clanmates were exchanging confused glances.

Wolfpaw narrowed her eyes. "Just what do they want?" she whispered.

The young lynx seemed uncertain. He shuffled his paws on the snow, refusing to meet anyone's gaze, but when his companions shot him several glares, he sucked in a deep breath and a look of determination dawned on his features.

Talking again, he mewed in a voice that seemed much too small for him. "Very sorry to bother you, but we've come a long way and we're tired. Ahote wants us to rest here for a while until we can find another path to move through." He blinked at us hopefully.

For a few long minutes, nobody moved. I squinted at him, trying to see past his guard. Was it a trap? These lynxes looked much too fierce. Weren't they looking for a fight?

The older lynx who seemed to be the leader of the group leaned down and whispered something into the younger's ear again. He perked up.

"Oh," he said. "Ahote also says that we aren't looking for trouble. It's just that we've traveled for so many sunrises. We're really grateful for any help that we can get."

And then, all at the same time, the lynxes bowed their heads down, a begging gesture that made them look somehow smaller and frailer.

The cats were still silent. I slid my gaze over to Dewstep and Shadefrost. Dewstep's face was tense with fear, but Shadefrost looked concerned. I knew just how much she wanted to help them, but at the same time, she was holding back. I knew why. These strangers couldn't be trusted.

As I watched closer, I noticed that their pelts did look matted and dirty. Their thick coats probably covered up the thinness of their ribs.

A small flurry of mewling snapped me out of my thoughts. A ripple ran through the crowd. Anxious murmuring.

Craning my neck, I spotted a female lynx murmuring something to a group of cubs. They didn't look more than a few weeks old, and they didn't look scary at all. They almost seemed like fuzzy kittens no bigger than my paw. The only thing that seperated them from a normal cat was the telltale tufts on their ears and the markings on their fluffy coats.

The mother looked weary, and unlike the others, I could see her ribs perfectly clearly. She nuzzled the cubs fondly and anxiously whispered something into her leader's ear.

The strangers were now watching us hopefully. Except for the huge, hulking leader. He kept glancing up at the grey sky with what seemed like worry etched on his face, although it was hard to tell. His face was like a vicious bulldog, covering his features so that I couldn't even tell what those fiery eyes were thinking.

The clearing suddenly broke into a frenzy of mews and threatening growls. What would happen if we refused to take them in? Would they leave, or would they grow angry? What should we do?

I turned my gaze to Bramblestar, but even he was at a loss.

I sank my teeth into the ground. How can we trust these terrifying beasts? They could rip us apart, limb from limb, if they wanted to!

I felt something brush my shoulder. Shadefrost had rested her tail tip against my flank and gave me a reassuring look before striding forward fearlessly. Ember and Dewstep exchanged glances, but for some reason, they didn't try to stop her.

She strode up to Bramblestar and the two exchanged a few words that I couldn't hear. The dark brown tom's expression widened into disbelief, but he kept quiet. The snarl never left his face.

Shadefrost turned to the young male lynx who had spoken and asked gently, "Where do you come from?"

She was just an acorn compared to his massive size. Her head only reached the top of his shoulders, even though the lynx couldn't be older than the age of an apprentice. I flexed my claws, alert in case I needed to jump in and save her.

"From the mountains. It's a very long way away. If I remember, it took us at least one hundred and fifty-two sunrises just to get here, but I lost count after that. We're really tired, though," he answered.

"The mountains?" Shadefrost echoed. "Then you've met the Tribe?" She seemed hopeful at the mention of it.

He looked confused, and shook his head. "Tribe? No. The only tribe living there was us. We came from the east," he said, nodding his head toward the direction. "Perhaps the tribe that you're talking about is located somewhere else. We have certainly never met them."

Yet, his gaze darkened. It was as if he was hiding something behind his mask of a friendly smile. A wolf in sheep's clothing.

"Can you tell me who you are?" Shadefrost asked.

"Our _ogama _is Ahote," he mewed, nodding to the leader. "Unfortunately, the gods have not blessed him with a second language, so I am the only one here who knows how to communicate with your kind. His mate is Kateri, our respectable queen and godmother."

I guessed that _Kateri _was the one standing next to the leader. Her eyes were sharp and pointed like a hawk's and just as stern. She gazed a few inches above Shadefrost instead of directly at her. Kateri was exactly like Ahote, except that she was female and slimmer. The muscles in her shoulders and back looked just as intimidating. When she caught me scrutinizing her, she bared her teeth slightly and tossed her head in the other direction.

I frowned. Did she have ants in her pelt or something? Sheesh.

We waited for the young male to continue on, but he seemed to have finished. He wouldn't look Shadefrost in the eye but instead, peered down at his paws, his face blank and emotionless.

Shadefrost cleared her throat. "Is that all? What about you?"

He was caught off-guard. "Huh? M-me?"

"Yes." She smiled at him warmly. "You have a name too, right?"

He hesitated. "I am Len." Ahote seemed to scowl, although I wasn't sure. The angry scars across his muzzle and eyes made him look like a wolf, the muzzle always set in a harsh grimace.

I expected Len to tell more about himself, but he didn't.

He acknowledged the other lynxes with a nod. "There are thirty seven of us in all: among us are seers, nursing mothers, and elders. We do have a lot of _danuwaris_, but they do not wish to fight here. And the rest are all _waris _like me."

I didn't really catch what he said. Danu-somethings? What were those? 'They do not wish to fight', he said. How was that supposed to make me feel better, since every one of those lynxes looked like they were going to claw us all to pieces?

"I still don't trust them," I muttered under my breath. Silverpaw blinked at me sympathetically, although she wasn't worried at all for some reason. "Shadefrost will make them leave soon," she whispered.

So that was the reason. As long as Shadefrost was here, what could possibly go wrong? But still, was Shadefrost strong enough to chase off all thirty seven of those lynxes? It was impossible.

The black she-cat stared at the group of intruders, but it was hard to tell what she was thinking. Her eyes rested on the litter of mewling kittens. The thin mother was bent over them protectively. She shot Shadefrost a glare, but the warrior didn't seem to notice.

Finally, Shadefrost dipped her head calmly and mewed, "We will gladly take you all in. There's no need to worry."

I stiffened, my eyes wide in surprise.

A ripple of alarm spread through the crowd of cats. They gasped and exchanged glances at each other, unsure of what to make of this. We all craned our necks toward Bramblestar, urging him to say something. Surely, he wouldn't let this happen?

"Shadefrost," he said, his amber gaze round with shock at what he just heard. "You can't-"

"They've come a long way," she interrupted. "They need to rest."

"Don't forget that I am the leader. I appreciate your help, Shadefrost, but I am the one who ultimately makes the decisions."

"The reason I spoke up," she replied, her brown eyes shining. "was that I was afraid you would make the _wrong _decision. You'd turn them away without a second thought."

"It is the beginning of leaf-bare! The prey is already dwindling. We can't afford to give them any."

"We have enough." She was firm.

Scorchpaw narrowed his eyes. "Does she know what she's doing?" he asked. The bristling of his fur wouldn't die down.

I pressed my claws into the snow. Whipping my head toward Dewstep, I meowed, "Can't you do something? Talk her out of it."

A jolt ran through me when he spoke. His eyes were calm and unmoving. "No. She's right. These creatures really have come a long way. The best we can do is give them shelter and food."

Ember agreed.

Didn't these knuckleheads have any sense in them? We were letting enemies into the heart of our very Clan! They'd murder us in our sleep!

Featherpaw was the only one who thought the same thing as me. Her eagle eyes were trained on the lynxes, especially Ahote, their battlescarred leader. Her blue gaze hardened. She curled her lip back into a snarl, her hackles rising into sharp quills like a porcupine's.

The hidden feeling that had been pestering me wouldn't leave. In fact, it only grew stronger. It felt like an oncoming thundercloud, invisible to everyone but Featherpaw and I. It hissed like a swarm of angry wasps. My instinct was screaming something at me. No matter what, I would not trust these creatures.

Ember furrowed her brow and studied them. "But what are they?" she asked. "They look cat-like..."

"Lynxes," I replied curtly. "They mean trouble."

"Relax," Scorchpaw said. His claws were sheathed now, his green eyes not as tense as before. "Shadefrost must know what she's doing. We should all trust her."

I wanted to, but at the same time I wasn't so sure. The ominous feeling buzzed at the back of my ears.

Meanwhile, the camp had exploded into a frenzy of hurried whispering. They kept glancing at Shadefrost, wondering what they should do.

Dewstep slipped past us and padded up to the she-cat. Flicking his tail, he leaned down and murmured, "You're sure about this?"

Without hesitating, she nodded, her brown eyes determined. They flickered with an inner flame that I had never noticed before.

Abruptly, I stiffened.

When had she changed? She looked older now, more mature, no longer the shy weird girl that I had known all those years before. Instead, a stronger, stealthier soul had replaced hers. The fire in her eyes and the battlescar on her shoulder proved it. Suddenly, I felt all too small and unimportant.

Where were _my_ battlescars? Had I changed too? Did she see a different person in me, or was I still the same Sam that had stumbled into her life on that fateful grey day with an armful of tulips in my fists?

I wanted to prove to her that I had gotten stronger too.

Bramblestar shouted, "The choice has been made. We will take care of these..._lynxes_...until they have rested enough to continue on their way."

Every cat opposed the idea, but no one dared go against Shadefrost's choice.

The camp settled into a thick silence that hung over our heads like a thick and heavy fog. My Clanmates scuffled their paws and looked away uncertainly. When nothing else happened, they ducked their heads and slunk away into the corners of the clearing, not knowing what to do yet not wanting to draw attention to themselves.

Bramblestar flicked his tail. "There is an abandoned den behind the warriors' and apprentices' dens. Ivypool and Toadstep, see that you clear it out and apply fresh bedding. The apprentices will be in charge of taking care of the newcomers. It is your task to make sure they have enough prey and clean moss. Treat them like how you would treat your elders."

Take care of the lynxes? I almost fell over with alarm. Just imagining myself so close to those hulking, dangerous creatures was enough to make my fur bristle.

"Make sure you keep an eye on them too," Dewstep whispered. "There's a reason why Bramblestar wants you to stay near them. Give a yowl if any of those animals decide to do anything rash."

I twitched my ears skeptically, but nodded. This was an important job, I realized. It was up to us, the apprentices, to watch over the lynxes and make sure they weren't planning anything. I wouldn't be alone. Silverpaw, Wolfpaw, Featherpaw, and Scorchpaw would be there to back me up.

"Shadefrost," I mewed as she slid past me. She stopped and turned back to gaze at me with her brown eyes. They were soft and full of a kind warmth that reminded me of a fire flickering in the hearth, a small flame that was just enough to keep a whole room lit in the darkness of winter.

"Yes?" she said, and I almost forgot what I was going to say. Was it wrong of me to worry?

"Are you sure about this?" I asked. "If anything goes wrong..."

She rested her tail tip on my shoulder and smiled gently.

"Do you trust me?" she asked.

I heaved a sigh. "Of course I do. Just...I hope nothing bad happens."

"Sure. Don't worry about it. Leave it all to me."

She leaned forward and licked my nose fondly. "The lynxes will be gone before you know it. You'll see."

Her smooth, gentle tone was enough to convince me. I nodded and watched as she padded away to exchange a few more words with Len. The group of lynxes were being led through the camp by Bramblestar and Squirrelflight.

The lynxes did look tired. Their movements were slow and weary like a tortoise's, as if they had an invisible shell on their backs that weighed them down with every step like stone.

Shadefrost said that I didn't need to worry about anything, and I wanted to believe her.

Yet, my instinct told me otherwise. Who should I listen to? I was torn between her and that ominous feeling that made my neck prickle.

Scorchpaw and the others were already following behind the lynxes.

"You coming, Stormpaw?" he meowed.

Quickly, without wasting any more time, I scrambled to my paws and clambered up the slope after them.


	18. Chapter 16-I'll Worship Like a Dog

CHAPTER 16-I'll Worship Like A Dog

**In answer to Guest's review: Sorry, but I don't think I'll be continuing "Journey Through Worlds". It's been at least a year since I've last updated that. I know how annoying it is for authors to abandon their stories, and sadly, I'm guilty of doing that. However, maybe you can find another author who will be willing to adopt it and continue it.**

Gingerly, as if stepping toward a ravenous lion, I set the sparrow down on the floor and nosed it toward the waiting lynx. Flinching as one of them dove forward to wolf it down, I stepped back and tried not to let my emotions show.

The lynx tore into the prey ferociously like a tornado tearing down a tree. Her matted ribs told me that she hadn't eaten in a long time, but still, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of annoyance.

I had caught that sparrow myself. It took me hours just to find it. Sure, it was scrawny and little more than a sad wad of feathers, but it was the only thing I could catch. The rodents had all burrowed into the earth to sleep away the leaf-bare, so the only prey that were still hopping around in this weather were the birds and rabbits.

And here were the _lynxes, _the pack of beasts who tore the prey from my paws without even a sign of gratitude. They just lapped it up quickly without a single glance in my direction.

Why were we wasting our time and energy in feeding them, instead of hunting for the Clan? It just didn't seem right. What were we getting in return?

The annoyance slowly turned into a slight anger. The feeling wrapped and churned inside me like a disturbed sea.

I scanned my eyes around the den. The lynxes were all huddled inside, some lying down and dozing, others tending to the kittens and elderly ones. They all had an air of wariness around them. Even the sleeping lynxes kept their ears pricked, and a single roll of a pebble toward them made them stiffen and crack open their eyes.

The den was filled with their scent. It didn't smell too unpleasant, but then again, it wasn't great either. Too sharp and strong. It assaulted my nostrils with every inhale and settled at the bottom of my lungs like smoke. The shifting of the air around them brought a hint of faint streams, looming mountains, and the musky aroma of bone and sinew. They did have a blurry tang of feline scent mixed in, but it wasn't the friendly, Clan-type feline I was used to. Instead, it was raw and slightly tangy like the ocean spray. A wild smell, as wild as pine forests and deep, tangled ravines.

_They've traveled for a long time, _I thought. I tried to figure out the distance between the mountains and the Lake. It must have been miles. A hundred miles, or maybe even more than that. A hundred miles spent in unfamiliar land, unforgiving terrain, and scarce prey.

Some of them were licking their paw pads, bruised and cut from trekking vast distances. The medicine cats had offered to treat them, but they only shied away with untrusting glares.

_They could at least thank us, _I thought, my brow furrowing. _They owe us everything for taking them in. _

The apprentices and I had agreed to take turns watching over them, changing the bedding, hunting for them, and giving them water soaked in moss. We decided to work in pairs, so Silverpaw and I were stuck in here until our shift was over. The light grey tabby had bounded over to the Dirt Tunnel earlier, leaving me here alone for the time being.

I couldn't leave even if I wanted to. Could this possibly get any worse? I was bored out of my skull.

Faintly, in the back of my mind, I wondered what the others were doing. They were probably training or hunting, not that there was anything to find in snow as deep as this. I sighed wearily and fidgeted.

Deftly, I recalled what Shadefrost had told me earlier.

_"Have a little patience, Sam. It's not hard."_

_ "But why do we have to take them in? It's hard enough for us to take care of ourselves, let alone a bunch of stupid lynxes."_

_ "Samantha. Be a little kinder. Now, if you were tired and had journeyed through many moons, you'd want a place to rest in. All they need is a bit of food and sleep. Then they'll be off again before you know it."_

_ "Pfft. Yeah, sure. They'd kill us all when we aren't looking."_

The last remark wasn't exactly true. Even if they did want to murder us, they wouldn't make it very far. Their joints creaked like door hinges every time they moved, and some of them were so exhausted they could barely get up.

I was daydreaming again, thoughts flaring up in my mind in bright lights before blowing out like candle fire, almost dozing off in my paws.

A small sound brought me awake again. A pair of lynx kits were tumbling around nearby, squeaking and play-fighting. I was surprised that they still had the energy to run. It must have been the prey I'd given them earlier.

They shrieked shrilly in glee as they batted at each other, not unlike how the ThunderClan kits acted in the nursery. Their smoky grey eyes were wide and round, their paws still clumsy. As I watched them play and wrestle, I realized how adorable they looked. Their fur stuck up all over the place, as soft and full as cotton. They were just like normal kittens, and if it weren't for their thick pelts, tufted ears, and stumpy tails, I could almost mistake them for one of the litters back in the nursery.

Amused, I watched as they scuffled around. Their high-pitched squeaks sounded almost like words, although I couldn't understand their language. They rolled right up to my paws, laughing and nipping each other's ears, until a tooth sank in harder than usual and caused the smaller one to emit a large shriek that echoed around the den. I jumped in alarm.

There was a sudden roar, so loud that it almost deafened me. For a split second I wondered if a thunderbolt had somehow split the sky open in its fury, letting loose such a rocketing noise that it quaked the ground and shook me to my bones.

The mother was charging like a bull, her eyes hardened and seeing nothing but red. It took me only a few seconds to realize that she was aiming at _me. _

I yelped in terror and scrambled to my paws, everything else quickly forgotten. The only thing on my mind was that I had to escape. Now! Delaying even a split moment could cost me my life, squirming underneath her claws as she slit my life out in crimson. She roared again, a bellow that clattered the walls of the den and echoed back to my stinging ears. My heart leaped into my throat. I bunched up my muscles and scrambled out of the way, her claws swiping at the air where I had been just a few moments earlier.

_Death! Death! Death! _My heart drummed out every beat in my chest, flitting as fast as a hummingbird's wings. It seemed that the same words were resounding in the lynx's furious roar.

I gasped in alarm as she raised a paw, darting forward so fast that it was a blur. I clenched my eyes shut, bracing myself for the cuff that would send me reeling over with my brains splattered all over the wall.

But it never came.

I cracked an eye open cautiously, staring through a narrow slit. Another lynx was standing in front of the angry mother, his yellow eyes hard. Was it...Len? I wasn't sure. They all looked the same to me, only Len's scent was slightly thinner and less musty.

They were exchanging grunts and low growls, or what sounded like barks. The mother suddenly flattened her ears and straightened up to her full height, glaring down sharply on the younger male with a hiss. Len flinched and backed away slowly with his eyes downcast, but answered with a few more grunts. Finally, the mother snorted and turned gruffly away, gathering up her two kittens and casting a final scowl back at me. Her eyes were a harsh warning, as sharp as daggers. I didn't have the courage to glare back, and scuffled my paws as she drew her kits away to the back of the den.

When she was out of earshot, Len blinked at me apologetically. "She didn't hurt you, did she?" he asked, his slightly accented voice speaking in the same language as me. "Nina was just trying to protect her offspring. I hope-"

I rounded on him, snarling. Strangely enough, the other lynxes didn't react at my sudden outburst. They had all tensed up when the mother had charged, but now, they had turned back to normal.

I looked at Len with malice in my eyes. The anger boiled in me like a red-hot kettle, clattering its lid and just waiting to explode. The mother's angry roar echoed again and again in my ears, my fury rolling and rocking like a wave of anguish. I didn't do anything wrong! What was her problem? All I ever did to them was catch their prey and take care of the den. Sinking my claws into the ground, a low growl made its way through my throat.

I spat with heartfelt venom. "I don't want you here! Why am I stuck looking after you lot when I could be doing something more important? What am I, your _babysitter?" _The words tumbled out in a torrent before I could stop myself. When those first words had erupted, I didn't feel like holding back anymore. "Did you _see_ that lynx? She could have killed me! I wish you'd _never_ come here!"

I panted, willing every trembling muscle to hold back and not leap at him with my claws outstretched. Strangely enough, now that I had spoken my mind, I wasn't so angry anymore. It was as if all of the hatred had leaped out of my mouth with the words and scattered away into the wind. Now, the fury had been replaced with a throbbing annoyance, a negative feeling that wouldn't go away.

But I was satisfied. Even if he did kill me here, at least he had heard what I had always wanted to say to him.

Len's ears flattened, his yellow eyes wide with an expression of hurt in them. My words hung heavily in the air like a fog, stinging harder than a whole nest of wasps.

All the while, the rest of the lynxes averted their gaze, looking as calm as ever. It was as if they didn't even notice my angry screeches. They didn't even care.

I turned, bristling, and began to stalk out of the den. I kept my claws out in case Len decided to attack me. I expected him to suddenly snap and yell back, maybe roar like Nina had and charge, killing me without any remorse. His composure would snap, his mask would crumble. He was nothing but a wolf in sheep's clothing, acting nice just for the sake of it, pretending to control himself when he really couldn't.

I only heard silence. Wasn't he going to say something back? And if he did murder me here, then it would prove to ThunderClan once and for all that the lynxes really did mean trouble. A spark of satisfaction grimly settled itself into my heart. Would it really take that much to finally convince Shadefrost to drive them out? At least I would be right, in the end.

Instead, I heard him say, "Please, try not to be too upset with us."

I stopped and blinked, partly because what he just said did not make any sense whatsoever (because I couldn't stop hating him even if I tried) and partly because his voice had not one ounce of anger or loathing in it.

I glowered at him and muttered, "What the hell are you talking about? You won't fool me. I know what you are. You're just pretending to be kind to me. You know that if you break the rules here, we won't hesitate to throw you out." I curled my lips back. "I know what you really are." And it was true. I had met people like him in my past. People with crinkled eyes, smiles as warm as the afternoon sunshine, extending a warm hand and making quiet conversation in exchange for a slow stroll through the garden. But in the end, always, I managed to see their true colors. Horrible. Black with rage. Their masks cracking and falling apart to show nothing underneath but blind fury.

He blinked warmly, his mouth raised to a soft grin-although it looked more like a snarl than a smile. "I can feel your sadness." The heck was that supposed to mean?

I retorted hotly, "I'm not sad at all."

His expression was warm, although his fangs were sharp and his claws sharper. For just a tiny sliver of a fraction, he reminded me of libraries, books cracked with age and covered with a fine dust, of cloudy days spent inside on a leather chair and a big book draped across the lap, the golden light of a lamp melting over everything.

Quietly, he dipped his head and whispered as if it was a secret. "You're different from the other cats. You don't fear us. At least, not as much. You're courageous enough to feel anger when others can't."

He leaned back and gazed at me with...what? Sorrow? Gentleness?

"The world needs more beings like you. Brave when others shrink back, yelling even when others cower. And the gods know, with the universe coming to an end so soon. I think, if the earth was covered with cats like you, no one would be able to be afraid to speak out and protest when things aren't right."

"What are you saying?" I asked, my voice suddenly not as scathing as before. Was I supposed to take that as a complement?

"You have something that so many others lack. I lack it too. You've got courage. You're not afraid to change things. You're not scared to step up and speak your mind when everything is going the other direction of what you want it to be. With the _Tikuromba _coming so soon, I know that courage is what the earth and sky need most."

I blinked, not bothering ask what the _Tikuromba _was.

And then, with a sudden jolt like the banging of a mallet, I realized.

"You don't hate me," I said, blinking, hoping that he really was a wolf under all those layers of fleece and fake kindness, hoping that I was right and he was wrong, and still knowing all too well that what he thought of me really was true.

"Even when I hated you," I mewed, my voice dropping to a whisper. "Even when I yelled and grumbled and wanted so hard to drive you out, you didn't hate me. You never did. Why? You could've just roared at me like Nina had and killed me afterwards." I didn't want him to tolerate me. Why was he so nice? I really had despised the lynxes from the bottom of my heart, but here was Len, offering me his kindness even when I had nothing to give him in return. I didn't deserve it at all. What was he, an idiot? Couldn't he see?

"We are the same in more ways than one," he said firmly, and I suddenly knew.

I knew why the other lynxes hadn't given so much as a glance in our direction when I had first spat at him.

I knew why he couldn't meet Nina's angry glare.

I knew why he didn't become furious even when I had.

I knew so many things about him that I had never noticed before, I knew why he said that we were the same, and I knew, I knew.

We really were alike, me and him. The same eyes. Same sadness. I looked at him fully for the first time since he had arrived.

A wide, broad face, striped and grey and covered from head to toe with layers of pelt, thick as clouds. Enormous paws. Green-tinged yellow eyes that were naturally narrowed at the corners and seemed fierce yet kind all at the same time.

His eyes crinkled a bit and appeared saddened. "I'm sorry," he said. "I know how you feel. It must have been quite a shock to you and your group when a pack of strangers stumbled unexpectantly into your territory. We'll leave as soon as we can, after we have rested and the strength returned to our limbs. In about two weeks' time."

He peered at me hopefully, wanting me to not be furious and to forgive him.

"Please don't apologize to me," I rasped, my tail lashing. What was taking Silverpaw so long? "Just do whatever you want. I don't care anymore." My shoulders sagged. I realized that even if I put my paw down, even if I grumbled and complained, I couldn't make these lynxes leave.

"Wait," he said nervously, his ears twitching. "Please do not go just yet. You do seem bored just sitting around, and I don't have anyone else to talk to. Would you like to go and get some fresh air with me?"

I snorted. "Go yourself. I'm not interested."

"But I am not allowed to wander around on my own. It would cause alarm to your fellow cats."

I sighed, knowing that what he said was true. Bramblestar had made it the apprentices' duty to look after the lynxes and make sure they had everything they needed.

I heaved myself to my paws wearily, beckoning to him wordlessly with my tail. The anger had left me along with my power. Maybe a quick stroll through the camp would bring my spirits up. It was certainly better than sitting around all day.

"A walk is good for the body," he added, nodding. "It connects the spirit with the Soul of the World and makes the creature pure."

I didn't know what he was talking about. I didn't care.

We made our way past the den to greet the sunshine. I expected the lynxes to protest and call him back, but they said nothing. I arched my back luxiurously, stretching out the boredom from my limbs.

The camp was the same as ever, with warriors bustling around and loud gossip among the elders and queens. They didn't seem shocked anymore by the lynx's arrival. It had been three days after all, and so far the creatures hadn't done anything they shouldn't.

A gleeful chirp greeted us as a silver tabby leaped forward.

"Gotcha!" Silverpaw cried as she collided into me, rolling on top until we were both a mess of tangled tails and paws. "I was moving so fast, you couldn't even see me."

"Yeah, you were great," I mused. "Where were you this whole time? We were supposed to stick together."

"I got distracted," she replied, and since she was Silverpaw, I believed her.

She untangled herself from me and scrambled away to let me sit up. She eyed Len, not with fear, but with a strong sense of curiosity. "What's he doing out of his den?" she asked me.

I meowed, "He wanted to go for a walk. It's getting really boring in there."

Her blue eyes lit up like two shiny marbles. "That's great!" she trilled, jumping around in a circle around the confused Len. "We can show him the Sky Oak first, and then the Lake, and then-"

"Hold on," I mewed sternly, causing her to jump as if startled and halt. "We can go for a walk, but we can't show him much of our territory. He _is_ an enemy, after all."

"Aw," she said in disappointment, flattening her ears and scuffling her paws in the snow.

"It's alright, little one," Len mewed gently. "It doesn't matter."

Silverpaw perked up again. "Wow, you can talk! So you must be Len, then. How did you learn to speak the cat tongue? What were the mountains like? Tell me!" she squeaked excitedly.

Before Len could open his mouth again, I nudged the apprentice swiftly and said, "Let's go. We're drawing too much attention to ourselves."

The three of us trudged through the heavy white snow. More flakes had fallen yesterday night, adding to the layers until it reached almost to my shoulders. I had to help support Silverpaw, since she was a lot smaller than me and could easily sink into a deep snow drift.

Despite the buffeting cold and the thickness of the snow, the day was beautiful. Birds sang in the grey air, hopping from tree branch to tree branch, flying off with a flowering of feathers whenever I tried to pounce on one. The snow glittered in the cold sun as if millions of stars were caught in them. They crunched underneath our paw pads, and at the back of my mind, I remembered making snow angels and snowmen when I was little, giggling even though my cheeks had been frozen pink. Blinking at Silverpaw padding next to me, I wondered if she would be interested if I taught her.

Mousefoot was guarding the exit, his amber eyes widening when he caught sight of us.

He asked us where we were going, his voice muffled by the thickness of the wind.

"Just for a stroll," I replied. "The lynx wanted to stretch his legs."

I wondered if Mousefoot would send us back. How dangerous was it for a lynx to wander around ThunderClan territory on his own?

To my surprise, he nodded and flicked his tail, his eyes casting timid glances toward Len. "You may pass," he mewed. "Just don't take too long."

Relieved, I nodded, and the three of us slid past the gorse tunnel. Len had some difficulty because he was a size too big for the tunnel, and had to squirm and push his way through. I stifled a laugh when he finally emerged, panting, clumps of bracken and gorse snagged in his thick grey pelt.

We continued on through the forest laden with snow. The trees were all bare, their thin black branches reaching toward the unfeeling sky like claws. Everything was covered with a sheet of glittering white. Icicles dangled from the treetops like crystals, and far away, I could hear the busy hammering of a woodpecker.

Silverpaw mewled as she accidently bumped into Len. Then her eyes widened in surprise. "You've got really thick fur," she said, her voice muffled by his fluffy pelt. "Does that mean you never get cold?"

He smiled, a grin that still looked too much like a snarl. "Most of the time," he replied. "The mountains are covered with snow, you know. I'm used to it." He raised his head to feel the wind running down his fur. "Strangely enough, this forest reminds me almost like home. Just add a few boulders and climbing places, and this could be like the mountains."

"You've got weird tufts on your ears too," Silverpaw pointed out.

He chuckled. "Well, those are used for hunting. They help me hear better so I can locate my prey easily."

I left the two to their conversation and wandered a little way off, my jaws parted so I can detect the faint whiff of prey. I smelled bird everywhere, but couldn't find any. They were amazing at hiding even at this time of the year, when there weren't any leaves or bushes to shelter them.

There was a particularly strong scent of squirrel coming nearby, which was weird since it was in winter. My mouth began to water. I inched forward slowly, taking my time, remembering to keep my tail low to the ground. As I peered down the slope, I spotted the bushy-tailed prey scampering a few paces away, intent on burying a few of its acorns. White spray sailed up as it continued to dig.

I could almost taste the fresh squirrel on my tongue. My claws itched to sink into its flesh. I continued to inch forward, flattening myself onto the snow and hoping that I didn't make too much noise. Luckily, the squirrel continued on its own business, completely oblivious to what was going on.

I licked my lips, my gaze intent. _You're mine! _I whispered excitedly in my mind.

Suddenly, the squirrel perked up and looked directly at me with its black eyes. I stiffened, my cover blown. Was there still time to capture it before it hopped away?

I didn't have time to think. Without warning, there came a sudden huffing and crunching behind me, like a silent train moving in to run me over. I spun around with a surprised shout, my back arching instinctively.

Len was rushing right at me! His massive paws ran right on top of the snow, not sinking in with every step like the other cats. His ears were alert and pricked forward, his eyes hardened and glinting. He was a blur as he moved, and I couldn't do anything but stand frozen to the spot, watching as he sprinted closer and closer in a matter of seconds.

He opened his jaws, revealing a tongue of startling pink, and raised himself to lunge at me. I squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to see my life come to an end.

The air shifted against my face as he leaped, and I felt a jolt of surprise when he sailed right past me.

"Huh?" I turned around and followed his movements. It took less than seconds, and Len was already crouched over the squirrel he had killed. The prey didn't even have time to register what was happening, and could only stand there dumbly when the lynx moved in for the finishing blow.

Silverpaw clambered over to us, her paws sinking into the whiteness and coming off in clumps that stuck to her pelt like brambles.

"That was amazing, Len," she mewed, her eyes wide in awe.

I thought he was aiming for me! I licked my chest in embarrasment and forced my fur to lie flat, hoping that none of them noticed my alarm. He nodded, his yellow eyes sparkling, and stooped down to pick up the fresh-kill with his mouth.

"You can have it," he mewed, nodding toward me and Silverpaw.

I looked away and shrugged. "Keep it," I answered, keeping my voice cold and unwelcoming. "You caught it, so you can eat it. Just give it to the rest of your lynxes."

"But..." his voice trailed off. He looked uncertain, and didn't move.

Silverpaw padded forward and nodded. "It's okay, Len. ThunderClan can catch our own prey, so you'd better give it to your friends. They look really hungry."

He shifted from one paw to the other, his jaws still clutching the squirrel. "Well..." His eyes flickered. "They wouldn't want to eat it."

I tipped my head to one side. "They don't like squirrel? Then it's their problem, not yours. Give it to them anyways."

"It's not because of that," he said quickly, shaking his head. "They just won't accept it."

I was really confused now.

He stared down at his paws uncertainly, as if thinking and finally arriving to a conclusion. Looking up, he mewed, "They won't want to eat it because...because then they'd have to accept it from me."

"I still don't understand," I mewed, flicking my tail. My brow furrowed in confusion. "It's still food. So what?"

Before he could say any more, a crunching of numerous paws through snow snapped us to attention. Shadefrost's black fur stood out sharply against the white background, along with Ember's pelt that seemed oddly warm despite the chill. Her fiery red coat must remind me of fire.

Only Featherpaw, with her lightly freckled white fur, seemed to blend in with the snow until it seemed that her green eyes hovered in nothingness.

"I see that you've caught something," Dewstep meowed, acknowledging the lynx. "Send it over to our fresh-kill pile when you get back."

Len nodded in agreement, looking relieved. In the meantime, he buried it for safekeeping until we returned to the camp.

"Are you letting a lynx wander around the forest?" Ember asked, although her voice was gentle, not stern. "Shouldn't we lead him back to the camp?"

Silverpaw spoke up. "It's nothing to worry about, Ember. Len's really nice. He just wanted to take a walk through the woods."

The fox nodded, but then said, "But then there's no one left to guard the rest of them back in the den. Scorchpaw, Wolfpaw, would you like to go?"

Shadefrost rested a tail tip on the vixen's flank, and mewed, "I don't think there's a need. I'd like all of us to stay together for now. We are currently on a border patrol. Would you like to join us, Len?" Her tone was polite and welcoming.

He was hesitant. "I don't think I should," he mumbled. "The others might get upset with me for spending so much time with your kind."

"But it's not like you've got anything else to do," Scorchpaw mewed. "So why not come?"

I didn't want him to tag along. I just wanted it to be the rest of us, undisturbed by the presence of a stranger. I silently urged Shadefrost with my eyes, but she didn't seem to notice.

"Well..." he still looked uncertain, but there was an excited glimmer in his gaze.

"Hurry up," Dewstep mewed, before dashing away. "We're wasting time just by standing around."

I stifled a sigh and bounded up the slope toward the waiting cats, Silverpaw and Len following close by. We made our way through the snow, paws crunching, pelts brushing together for warmth. Somewhere above was the whining call of an invisible blue jay, followed by the harsh coughing of a crow.

There was an uncomfortable silence hanging heavily in the air, stifling the cooling breeze. No one knew what to say in the presence of the stranger.

When the awkward silence was becoming unbearable, Shadefrost finally spoke up. "So Len," she mewed. "What made you leave the mountains in the first place?"

He started at the question, ears twitching. I noticed that he wouldn't meet her gaze, instead blinking down at his paws. He was acting the same way toward Ember and Dewstep too, looking past them instead of directly at them.

After hesitating, he said firmly, "Please forgive me, but I am not allowed to tell you anything about our old home. My _ogama_ and his mate have directly forbidden me to. I am sorry."

Shadefrost blinked at him sympathetically. "There's no need to apologize. You haven't done anything wrong."

Dewstep added, "And why are you acting so nervous? We won't attack you unless you give us a reason to, you know."

So everyone else _did _notice. Len was more fidgety than usual around the older warriors, acting like a wary rabbit.

The lynx stiffened and widened his gaze, as if Dewstep had asked him a very stupid question.

"Forgive me for asking, but what do you possibly mean?" Len mewed. "I am merely showing respect to you leaders, the _ogama _and the seers." He nodded to Shadefrost, Dewstep, and Ember.

"_Ogama _and seers?" Ember sounded amused, even flattered. "We don't know what those terms mean. Can you explain it to us?"

Len nodded furiously, though he kept his gaze down, refusing to meet their eyes. "Yes, yes," he said hastily. "My language is different from yours, so I should have explained sooner. The _ogama _is the biggest and strongest lynx in the whole group, and he is also the one who leads and makes the decisions. The seers are the lynxes who know medicine, who memorize the prayers and bring offerings to the Eternal Ones. I assumed that the _ogama _in your group is the black cat, because it appears that she is the one who is the leader. And I thought that you-," Len acknowledged Dewstep and Ember. "-were the seers, because you are the maturest and have the most authority. Was I wrong?" he asked nervously.

Shadefrost gave a small laugh. "I'm not the _ogama, _Len. Bramblestar is. But I appreciate your complement."

"We're not seers either," Dewstep added. "Only warriors. And the rest of them are our apprentices." He swept his tail over us.

Len was surprised. "Then the rest of you are _waris, _or the apprentices, as you call them." He hung his head toward the warriors. "I am sorry for mistaking you," he mumbled. "You must be terribly insulted. Please do not think bad of me."

Ember nudged him gently. "Hey, hey, it's perfectly fine. You don't have to be so polite all the time."

Len leaned back and blinked, and his confusion was replaced with something else. "You don't seem too upset," he said. "I have forgotten that our customs and yours must be completely different. In my culture, the _ogama _and his mate are regarded highly, with respect. They must be addressed politely, with ears folded back. Any eye contact with the highest members, including the seers, is strictly forbidden. It is considered a sign of disrespect, or possibly even a challenge. Failure to do so will result in punishment. It is even frowned upon to speak of the leaders' names without permission. That is why I can only refer to them as _Ogama _and his Mate, never their true names."

So that was why Ahote had frowned at him when he was introducing him to Shadefrost. And why Len refused to give eye contact to any of the warriors. _Our customs are vastly different, _I thought.

Dewstep nodded, his gaze softening. "Tell us more about your traditions as we walk. It seems interesting."

We trekked through the snow. As we continued on, the clouds grew thick and churned. More flakes began to fall, harder, faster, until they weren't soft puffs, but sharp needles driven by the lashing wind.

We quickened our pace. The WindClan border loomed in front of us. I saw Scorchpaw and Featherpaw grimace, as this was where the trouble between the borders first started. I tried to imagine the dead queen lying there, red gashes on her neck.

"You told me that you were warriors," Len said uncertainly. "What does that mean?"

This time, it was Wolfpaw who answered him. "Warriors are important to the welfare of the Clan," she mewed, her voice calm and soothing. "Their duty is to hunt for the cats and to fight in battles. Many kits and apprentices look up to them. And the apprentices are the warriors in training." She nodded her sleek head toward Featherpaw, Silverpaw, Scorchpaw, and I.

"That sounds a lot like the _danuwaris _and _waris _in my group," Len said, surprised. We quickened our pace until we were dashing through the storm, the falling snow pelting harder and more insistent. The skies had turned a shade of dark grey, causing shadows to fall onto the dreary land.

For a moment, I wondered if we would be able to get back to the camp in this storm, but then pushed the fear down. As long as I was with my companions, I would be safe.

Len continued, "_Danuwaris _are experienced hunters, fighters, and climbers. They are looked up to, but aren't as high up as _ogamas _and seers. Still, as a _wari, _or apprentice as you call it, I must show respect to them by dipping my head before I speak. Eye contact isn't necessary to them, though."

We had arrived at the border. Luckily, I didn't spot any WindClan cats lurking around. After all, who would be crazy enough to go out in this weather? The snow came down in sheets, spreading itself over the small patrol. It battered at my sides and nipped at my ears and eyes. I shivered, feeling the freezing cold creep up to my paws and limbs like stealthy snakes.

After we had marked the border, Shadefrost quickly ushered us back toward the camp. We were running now, chased by the snowstorm. I was numb all over, but my gasping breaths were warm.

"It's not too far!" Shadefrost mewed, shouting over the gales. "Just keep going."

"Tell us more," Silverpaw pleaded, her eyes glowing through the powdery wind. "It'll help keep our mind off the cold."

Even though I tried to think otherwise, I did agree silently that I wanted to hear more about the weird customs of the lynxes. It awakened an excited trill inside me. I wanted to know more about the world, beyond the borders, to an exotic pack of creatures that I had never met before. I'd die before I'd admit it out loud, though.

Len didn't seem bothered by the cold at all. He kept up with our swift pace easily, his powerful limbs striding forward effortlessly. He grinned. "Of course. As you know, I am still a _wari. _To become a _danuwari, _one must train and fight. When a kit becomes old enough, his first task, according to tradition, is to catch a mouse. Once he completes that, he moves on to bigger and bigger prey, from the sparrows and squirrels to the elk, and the last test you have to take is to stalk and kill the most magnificent, deadliest prey animal you can find in the mountains-the moose. If, for any reason, you can't do that, then an alternate test is to sneak into a wolf camp, steal a pup and kill it, and present it to the _ogama. _The moose is more preferred, though, since it is an old tradition."

A lynx fighting a moose? It seemed almost impossible. Len, even with his strong muscles and fangs, couldn't possibly bring down a raging bull on his own.

The other apprentices were in awe. Even Featherpaw, with her usually bored expression, was alert to everything the lynx had to say.

The wind howled and screeched and tore its way through the trees, raking down my fur and making my head reel. We pressed closer together for warmth, our breath billowing out in white fog. I could barely even see my way through the thundering snow and gales, but Shadefrost seemed to know where we were going.

Silverpaw furrowed her brow. "But there aren't any moose here. How are you gonna complete your training?"

Len chuckled with a certain sadness in his voice. "Do not despair. I am still far off from hunting down a moose. I am the only _wari _right now in my group, since the others have graduated many cycles before me. Right now, the biggest thing that I've ever caught is the eagle." He seemed ashamed at admitting that.

"Don't be so upset," I sniffed. "Even an eagle is impressive." Those talons as sharp as knives, wings beating furiously, strong enough to ground a mere cat to a pulp. It was amazing that Len could make it that far. What was he so depressed about?

"Still, an eagle is many leagues away from a moose," he sighed, his shoulders sagging. Silverpaw blinked sympathetically and pressed up to his pelt.

He nodded at her gratefully before he continued, "If it continues at this rate, I will never become a true _danuwari. _I've heard stories of young lynxes staying _waris _all their life because they have failed the final test. I am afraid that it will be my fate as well."

"You can do it," Ember said, her eyes flashing. "I'm sure that you'll pass."

The lynx nodded, although he wasn't certain. He mewed, "Our names are important as well. My name, 'Len,' is one syllable, which is typical for a _wari. _When you become a _danuwari, _your name changes to two syllables. Only the highest, such as the _ogama _and the seers, have names with three syllables. Your name is a symbol of your rank."

"Fascinating," Wolfpaw murmured quietly.

I perked up and bounded forward when I spotted the vague shape of the ThunderClan camp a long way away, hidden and blurred against the raging snow.

Ember murmured, "Len, you also said something about prayers and 'the Eternal Ones'. Can you tell me more?"

Len folded his ears back, suddenly nervous. "The Eternal Ones are sacred. I am not sure if I should reveal it to outsiders like you."

"But I want to know!" Silverpaw squeaked. "I promise I won't tell anyone! So pleeeease?"

After hesitating for a long time, he finally agreed. His voice turned into a whisper. We had to lean in closely to hear him over the shrieking wind.

"Everything on this earth has a soul, from the gurgling river to the mighty trees." He seemed to be reciting something that had been passed down from generations.

"Yet, the most important soul comes from the center of the earth. It is like a fire. It flickers, yet if it is not fed, it becomes extinguished. If that ever happens, then the world and universe will collapse and turn to dust. The Soul of the World feeds on the emotions of its people. If the people turn dark and evil, then the Soul will too.

"Only the Eternal Ones, the gods who have created the universe and everything in it, has the power to keep the Soul safe and light. As long as the Soul of the World is healthy, then everything else will be kept in balance." His tone darkened.

"The Eternal Ones were the three beings who first created this world. They alone have the power to suspend it and keep the peace. But they have vanished thousands of years ago, and no lynx knows where. Yet, as the custom goes, the seers still pray to them and ask them to come back and save the earth. They have not answered. I don't think they have abandoned us, but I still wonder why the left.

"Because the Eternal Ones are no longer here to protect the universe, the Soul of the World is shrinking. If it goes away completely, everything will be destroyed. That is what the _Tikuromba _is: the day the world will end for good. In your language, it roughly translates to 'The Cycle of Ending.' The omen is predicted by our seers. I do hope that the Eternal Ones will finally come back and restore the peace."

I was thinking hard. I hardly noticed the numbing cold or the howling of the storm. Len's words brought back a flicker from the back of my mind. I was trying to remember something, but I didn't know what. His words seemed familiar somehow, as if I had heard them before. It frustrated me. My claws scraped against ice.

I hardly noticed when Ember asked, "The Eternal Ones sound very similar to the gods in my custom, The Two Beings. Yet, I'm certain that there were two of them, not three."

Len shook his head. "There were _three_. They all helped shape the world in the beginning of its creation," he insisted. Ember still looked uncertain, but they let the matter drop.

The story of the Eternal Ones, or whatever they were called, brought a nagging voice into my mind. I felt weird for some reason without quite knowing why. The words haunted me.

I didn't even notice that the gorse tunnel was looming in front of me until I almost smacked my nose onto it.

Dewstep sounded relieved. "We finally made it back."

At the sound of pawsteps entering the camp, numerous cats poked their heads of the dens to see what was going on.

"You're safe!" Hazeltail purred. "We were afraid we had to send a search party off to find you."

Shadefrost shook her head fondly, "No need. The blizzard is worsening, though. Stormpaw and the rest of you, get inside before you catch greencough."

I turned to Len, and could hardly see him through the storm. "Do I need to escort you back to your den?" I called, rising my voice through the deafening blizzard.

He shook his head. "I appreciate it, but there is no need. Have a good night, Stormpaw."

I watched as he turned and padded away. He had told me so much about the lynxes, more than I had ever known, but there was still something else that I wanted to ask him.

"Why did you have to leave the mountains in the first place?" I shouted, but I wasn't sure if he heard over the blizzard. In any case, he didn't turn around and only kept on walking until the whiteness swallowed him up.

OoOoOOoOoOoooooooooOOOooOoOooOOOOooOoOoOOO

Len crouched in the den near the entrance, ignoring the snowflakes that shot like needles past his eyes. It was warm in here, and safe. He breathed in the familiar scent of lynxes and relaxed. Even though he was caught in the middle of an unknown land, with strange cats who were so different from his own kind, he felt content.

He turned his head when he heard pawsteps approaching him, and quickly stiffened and lowered his gaze when he saw who it was.

"Speak up," Kateri mewed in her usual tone that was as high and sharp as an eagle's echoing cry. "You were gone for a long time with the cats. What were you doing?" Her voice was demanding, her eyes stern.

Len kept his gaze averted and dipped his head. "Please forgive me. I was only gone for a walk."

Ahote was seated at the center of the den on a small ledge, his paws tucked under him. His scars seemed harsher than usual, his face serious. "I hope you have not told them anything? Any secrets or statements that could bring danger to us?" he rumbled, his voice low and menacing and deep, a sound that came from deep in his battlescarred chest.

Len nodded. "Of course not, my great _ogama. _You needn't worry." Silently, he prayed to the gods that he was right. He was certain that he hadn't given away anything important to the cats.

Ahote's eyes narrowed. "Good. You know what happened last time." Without speaking any more, he turned and muttered something under his breath. Kateri slipped by and wrapped herself around her mate, and the two grew silent.

Len blinked and stared out the opening of the den. Outside, the blizzard had grown menacing, turning into a frozen beast that belched out needle-like snow and turned the entire camp into whiteness. He was relieved that they had made it back to the camp before the blizzard had worsened. Maybe the Eternal Ones were watching over him after all?

He knew that Ahote disapproved of him spending time with the cats. It was obvious in the older lynx's scowl.

Yet, Len wanted to disobey his leader just this once. He wanted to know more about this strange Clan's traditions. He wanted to see the tortoiseshell she-cat again, and the silver tabby, and be closer to them. At once, like a frog snapping up a group of butterflies, he let his mind close shut. Even thinking about opposing thoughts were dangerous. He was supposed to obey his _ogama _no matter what, in all his mind and soul. It was written down in the sacred rules that had been passed down for centuries.

However, Len wanted to disobey just this once. No one would know. He thought about his old home in the mountains, the faraway screech of eagles, the stamping of rams' hooves, the smooth, cooling feel of stone underneath paws. He missed it, and thought about the day when they had to leave.

He wondered if Chogan was still lying there where he had been buried, staring up at the sky with lifeless eyes, or maybe his spirit had already escaped his body and Chogan was wandering around the lonesome and empty mountains, wondering where everyone had gone.

Len felt a pang of grief in his heart. _Oh, Chogan, _he thought, wondering if the lynx could hear him. _I know I should listen to the ogama's words. He knows what he's doing, after all, and he only has the best intention in mind. But I really do want to go against him just this once._

Len's thoughts drifted to Stormpaw and Silverpaw. He liked both of them immensely like sisters, and it felt that he had known them for many sunrises instead of only a few days. He remembered Stormpaw's courage and loud personality, her eyes that glowed with a strange light that he had never seen in any of the other cats. And Silverpaw's happiness, the way she admired him and gaped at anything he told her.

He stiffened when he caught himself thinking about them and slapped himself mentally, hissing under his breath. The gods and Chogan would be _very _disappointed in him if they found out he was thinking such jarring thoughts.

A stab of fear jolted him upright. Maybe the ancestors had caught a whiff of his thoughts and emotions? They might even become furious and cast a curse on him!

He quickly recited a prayer to ask them for forgiveness and crouched down to go to sleep. He was still wide awake.

In a sleeping den filled with quiet mutterings and snores, he felt as alone as ever. Len sighed, a slow and heavy sound, and urged the ancestors to cast a sleeping spell on him, hoping that the sun would rise soon.


	19. Chapter 17-When the Wolf Cries

**To **_**Wood Cat **_**: I actually did answer your question, but I suppose you didn't see it XD I answered it way back in Chapter 13-"Identification". It's in the bold type at the top of the chapter. **

CHAPTER 17-When the Wolf Cries For the Moon

Fire flashed past me and rose like a sea of flaming red and orange. The heat was unbearable, like I was trapped in a searing oven with no way out. The ground burned and charred my paw pads until they were black with soot. With a desperate cry that sounded mangled and nowhere near human, I dashed forward with my fur fluffed out, trying to find my way out of this fiery place without success. The smoke blinded me and made my eyes water, choking up my lungs and making it feel like I was breathing glass.

The grey ground beneath me rippled like liquid and began to crack and shatter into pieces as if it were a mirror. Lava bubbled out and hissed, steam whirled and danced like transparent spirits. I let out a wail when the flames began to surround me, devouring me, swallowing me down whole...

I woke with a start, my pelt ruffled and flanks heaving, my heart beating up a frenzy. The overwhelming heat was replaced with a coldness in my limbs that felt like needles pricking my skin. I saw a high, sloping roof above me, and everywhere else was the heavy scent of familiar moss and dust. Through the darkness, I could spot the sleeping bodies of the apprentices as they dozed next to me.

So it was a dream. I sank down into my nest, still worked up over it. I could remember every terrifying detail: the boiling heat, the welling lava, the fear. But most of all, I felt panicked and broken, as if I had lost something very important to me and couldn't get it back. Did the dream mean something? Was it a message from StarClan?

Or was it a scene from the near future, an agonizing prediction that promised nothing but destruction and the powerful, stifling heat?

The cold wailed from the opening of the den and ruffled my pelt, snuffing out the smoke from the nightmare. I sighed and sank down into the moss, wrapping my tail around my shivering frame. It was the beginning of winter, yet I was dreaming about fire.

Outside the quiet, warm den, I could still here the whistling of the snowstorm. It sounded like a beast howling its head off and raging at the world. I shivered when I imagined how it must feel like outside. The entire landscape must be frozen stiff, covered in sheets of ice and desolate isolation. But here, I was safe.

I shifted on my nest and made myself comfortable. I was curled up inside an egg, inside a shield of impenetrable armor which even the blizzard couldn't reach.

There was a crackling of dry moss underpaw, and I spotted movement in the corner of my eye among the shadows.

Wolfpaw was crouched there with her tail curled neatly around her paws, a sleepy look in her half-closed eyes. I guessed that she must have just woken up, like me.

"It's coming down outside," I told her. "The storm and everything. If you peek out the opening of the den, you'll see nothing but blinding white."

As if to prove my point, the blizzard let out another wailing screech like a banshee, and lashed its claws against the walls.

She yawned, her ears twitching. "No point sleeping in this racket," she murmured, her blue eyes glinting. She trailed her gaze over to Silverpaw, who was still lightly snoring in the corner of the den. The light grey tabby was sprawled out with her limbs splayed awkwardly everywhere, yet she didn't seem to notice. One of her hind paws was squishing Scorchpaw's face. The two continued to sleep on, oblivious to the storm and the chaos of the outside realm.

Wolfpaw's blue eyes, I noticed, were striking and sharp. They were dark in color, the darkest shade of blue there was, like midnight and the sheen of raven's feathers as they caught in the sunlight. There was a coldness in there that was masked with a glimmer of warmth.

_They're like ice, _I thought. _I wonder how much she's seen._

Her eyes crinkled a bit at the edges in silent laughter as she continued to watch the sleeping form of her sister. Meanwhile, the storm kept on wailing like a lost woman trailing through the snow.

"Silverpaw can sleep through anything," Wolfpaw murmured, closing her eyes. "Even though the snow brings back so many memories."

I perked up and edged closer to her until our pelts were brushing, partly because her voice sounded so sorrowful just then, and mostly because I was a bit scared by the blizzard's voice that sounded so much like someone screaming. It was a sad sound.

The silence and darkness of the den, the scent of dried moss, and the warmth of sharing pelts made me drowsy again. I was beginning to nod off, my vision growing hazy. The blizzard sounded far away.

In the distance, I heard Wolfpaw's voice. "You had woken up with a startled look. Did you have a nightmare?"

"Kinda," I murmured. It was a frightening dream. The smoke and fire had all seemed so real, and there was a feeling as if I had a gaping hole in my chest where my heart had been, as if someone had snatched it away. But was it a nightmare? It seemed more like a distant memory, but I wasn't sure why. For a few seconds, I wondered if I had a drawer stored up somewhere in my brain, filled to the brim with old photographs from somewhere far away. If only I knew how to reach them.

"It must be midnight," she continued, her voice sounding like it came a million miles away. "I was awake the whole time."

That caught my attention. I snapped my eyes open, although I didn't move. "You didn't sleep?" I asked, yawning. "How come?"

And then I noticed that her eyes, although strikingly blue and as calm and frozen as ice, did seem a bit weary.

She didn't answer me right away. Instead, she stared at Silverpaw, at the gentle rising and falling as she breathed. Wolfpaw watched intently with a faraway look to her gaze, as if she was afraid that her sister would somehow stop breathing and the grey tabby's chest would cease, silently, like a feather drifting to the ground.

I was nodding off to sleep again when she didn't say anything, my heart slowing to a dull drumming and my ears filling with the sweet sound of snores.

When she spoke again, I was already half way in dreamland.

"Because," she mewed. "This blizzard. It reminds me a lot about what happened so long ago."

With my eyes still closed, I shuffled closer to her and wrapped my tail around her flank because her voice had saddened just a bit when she said that.

"I don't remember a lot," she continued. "Mostly just shapes and sounds. But this blizzard...If I try hard enough, I just might..."

She stiffened and hesitated, and a look of concentration fell on her face. She opened her mouth to say something. Nothing came out, at least not for a few minutes. But then she closed her eyes and sighed, and then told me everything. Maybe she thought I deserved to know.

OoOOoOoooOooooOooooOOOOoOoOoOOOOOoooOoooOOo

She told me that when she and her sister were young, the older one four moons and the younger only two, their names had been just Wolf and Silver. Loners.

She had a lot of regrets, she said, and the biggest one she had was that she couldn't remember her mother's name no matter how hard she tried. Maybe it started with an 'R', maybe it was 'Robin' or 'Red' or 'Rouge', but Wolfpaw couldn't quite pinpoint it exactly. Which was a shame, she told me, because the least she could do to the queen who had sacrificed so much for her was to just remember her name. And she couldn't do even that.

The earliest memory she had was of flat, grey skies and tall, rundown buildings built of brick and mud, a dirty colored red like the silt that gathered on the riverbeds. It reeked everyday of rats and garbage, of Twolegs with tattered coats and paint.

Her mother kept Wolfpaw and her sister in a cardboard box hidden deep in the crevices of the Twolegplace, safe and dark. Her mother had tried her best to keep both of them safe, and Wolfpaw, with a heavy heart, recalled how thin the queen had looked, how bony and rigid like a twig yet still having just enough strength left to keep her kits alive.

_"The Twolegplace is a ruthless monster," _she whispered to me. _"Right when you least expect it, it strikes and takes away everything you've ever known."_

And on that fateful day, when the skies were nothing but a pale grey and everything smelled wet with rain, the Twolegplace took everything away from the two kits who were so tiny, yet who knew too much about the world.

That was when Wolfpaw's memory began to fall apart. She didn't remember everything exactly, only fragments and voices and confusing colors and sounds.

"I was old enough to understand what was going on," she said. "I understood that we were in danger and had enough will to call out my mother's name. But Silverpaw was so young back then. I doubt she remembers much."

It had been a day so cold that the temperature dropped like a stone, so cold that frost had formed on the iron pipes and clouds billowed out of your mouth.

There had been shouting. Hisses and snarls, and the unmistakable reek of trash cats, cats with sores in their pelts and rotten teeth who had to fight their way through life because they didn't know what else to do with their claws. Low growls, menacing. The sky suddenly tipped over and rolled around like a ball, and Wolfpaw, as a kit, suddenly found herself and her sister falling effortlessly onto the harsh sidewalk.

More hissing. That was her mother's voice. A yowl, then a shriek of pain. Redness. A red bloom like a flower. She felt something sticky trickle onto her paws, but didn't want to lift her head and see.

Confusing blurs of colors, of different pelts mingling together, of a certain cat standing in front of the two kits, refusing to back down, fighting ferociously, and all the while the red kept on coming and wouldn't stop.

And then Wolfpaw's memories became fuzzy, and some time must have passed because the next thing she knew, she was dangling through the air, whizzing through it, and recognized the pelt of her sister next to her. She recognized too, the familiar scent of the queen as she carried them to safety.

She was running away from something. Slapping wind, choking fumes, cold gales that nipped and made the kits' eyes water. More blurs she didn't recognize, more pieces jumbled up together.

And then a roar, a booming noise that sounded louder than thunder, and then she found herself falling to the ground and her mother and sister falling with her.

After that, Wolfpaw said, the queen couldn't get up.

"But I do remember, very clearly, the last thing she said to me. I don't remember her voice, but I know the words," Wolfpaw mewed quietly. "She told me: '_Promise me you'll look after her.'"_

'Her', I realized. Silverpaw.

"I think," Wolfpaw meowed carefully, "That there is a reason why she named me after the wolf. She used to tell me stories about them. She admired their grace and beauty, but most of all, their strength. She wanted me to look after my sister because she couldn't do it herself. And she made me promise."

OooOoOoOOOOoOOoooOoOooOooOooOOO

She didn't remember much about the Twolegplace and what happened there, but she did remember, quite clearly, of her trek through the snow.

She had walked through a blizzard. A storm. I suddenly realized, with a jolt, why she couldn't sleep tonight. It was because of the blizzard pounding on the walls of the den, reminding her, roaring at her while the distant memories of the Twolegplace came crashing down on her head.

She was carrying her sister, the two of them trudging through the blinding storm. Silverpaw was so small, so weak, that she was afraid she might lose her too. Two small shapes making their way blindly through the white, the biting weather, ears folded back and small paws leaving a trail of tiny prints behind them.

That was when they met ThunderClan.

They saw a patrol, and there was a certain dark grey tom who caught her attention. Despite her mewls of protest, he took both of them by the scruff and turned to the other cats.

_"I'm taking them with us," he mewed firmly. Gasps of surprise and alarm._

_ "But we don't have enough prey to feed them. They're only rogues."_

_ "I don't care. I can't just leave two defenseless kits to die on their own."_

_ "Think carefully, Dewstep. Who will be there to protect them?"_

_ The grey tom only narrowed his eyes. "Me. I'll see that they grow into fine warriors."_

Meanwhile, the falling snow covered up the tiny pawprints of the two kits, replacing them with the trails of warriors.

Now I understood why Silverpaw told me that Dewstep hadn't always been the sour crabapple that I had known him to be. He could actually feel emotions like any other living thing.

Wolfpaw grew silent and seemed to be done with her story. Outside, the blizzard kept on screaming, begging to be let in, knocking on the doors and leaking in through the cracks in the walls. It had dropped a few degrees lower.

"I had no idea," I whispered.

I wanted to say something else, but she interrupted. "Now I have everything that I've ever wanted. Shelter. Food. Company. But still, there is something that I'm missing." Her eyes fell. "I broke the promise. I couldn't protect Silverpaw. Do you remember what happened on the battle with WindClan?"

Of course I remembered. The shrieks and snarls were still fresh in my mind. Bright crimson flowers, the screaming of wounded cats, everywhere the stench of blood, and Onestar pinning the apprentice down-

She gazed at me, her blue gaze wide and mournful. With a start, I saw who Wolfpaw really was. Outside, she was strong and muscular, skillful and as tough as a badger, praised by her mentors and apprentices alike. But inside, she was a real cat; a cat made out of flesh and blood, one who knew how to fight and claw her way in a battle but who could also, in turn, be fought and clawed at. She was as brave as a lion and as terrified as a newborn kit.

"I couldn't protect her," she whispered, her ears flat against her head. "If Shadefrost hadn't come in time, then Onestar-"

I didn't want to think about it.

I gently rested my tail tip on her muscular shoulder and tried to comfort her. "That was at least a moon ago," I said. "And look, Silverpaw's fine."

She unsheathed her claws and pressed them against the ground. "But I couldn't take care of her," she said. Her tone was sad, not angry. "Protecting my sister was the one and only thing my mother ever asked me to do. And I let her down."

Thoughts flashed through my mind. The silence was filled with the howls of the wind, of the echoing storm outside.

"Then let's make a new promise," I mewed softly. She raised her head and looked at me in surprise.

Without warning, the moss shifted and crunched under paws, and two pairs of glowing eyes stared back at me from the darkness.

"You guys are awake too?" I said, surprised.

Featherpaw nodded.

Scorchpaw padded forward, trying to look serious despite the fact that his fur was ruffled and covered with lumps of moss.

"I'm sorry, Wolfpaw," he mewed. "We woke up and heard everything. Silverpaw's still asleep, though. I don't think you'd want her to know."

Wolfpaw lowered her gaze. "It's fine," she meowed. "I don't mind if you listen."

"But still," Scorchpaw said, twitching his tail. "Since you broke your old promise, why not make a new one like Stormpaw suggested?"

"You're right. I should promise myself to not let Silverpaw get hurt again like last time."

I stepped in, breaking her off. "No!" I mewed, a bit louder than I hoped. My voice echoed around the walls. A bit embarassed now, I continued, "Protecting someone you love is a huge burden. You can't possibly carry it on your own." I didn't know why, but I somehow felt that I was speaking to myself as well. I didn't ever remember losing anyone important. So why was I feeling this way? This was for Wolfpaw, not me.

"So we'll share your promise," I meowed. "All of us, together, so you won't have to fight alone. We'll all promise to defend each other."

Silverpaw murmured something in her sleep and shifted onto her side with her eyes still closed. The slow breathing of her chest hinted that she was still in deep sleep. There was a small smile on her face, as if she was dreaming about something.

Scorchpaw nodded. "Let's do it, then. Never again will each of us stand alone. We will shield each other and stay together no matter what."

I nodded too, firmly. "That's right. We've got your back, Wolfpaw, so don't worry. Silverpaw will be safe."

The she-cat trembled, slightly, but forced herself to stand up straight. The sorrow in her face was replaced with an expression of relief. Her hawk eyes no longer seemed so sharp.

"Thank you," she whispered, and dipped her head in gratitude.

The nagging feeling in my chest wouldn't leave. I had wanted to say something else for a long while. "There's one other thing," I said, and their ears pricked forward in surprise.

I turned to Featherpaw and gave her a wide smile. She had been sitting silently there the whole time, and her green eyes were bored and uninterested, and I wasn't sure if she had even been listening.

But when I grinned at her, she had grown alert again. She watched me intently to see what I was going to do, her green gaze burrowing deeply into mine.

I meowed, "It seems that we've left out Featherpaw. Come on, guys, we have to protect her too, don't we?"

I padded forward to stand next to her. This time, she didn't edge away but stood completely still with what looked like surprise in her face.

After a brief silence from the others, Wolfpaw was the first to nod. She heaved herself to her paws and padded forward like I had to stand next to the white she-cat.

Scorchpaw soon followed.

"You're right," he whispered, staring down at his paws. "We aren't as close to Featherpaw as we should be. Although I hate to admit it, we've been ignoring her. After all, when was the last time we've ever talked to her?" He blinked at Wolfpaw for the answer, but the she-cat didn't know either.

"I promise that we'll change," the blue-grey she-cat murmured to Featherpaw. "You're our Clanmate as well, so you're one of us. Remind us not to forget," she added, with a playful glimmer in her eyes.

Featherpaw blinked at her with an expression I didn't recognize. But her green eyes were bright, and she sat taller than usual.

"Silverpaw's missing out on the whole thing," I reminded them.

"Let her sleep," Scorchpaw whispered. "She looks so peaceful like that. We shouldn't disturb her."

We settled down again onto the soft moss for the rest of the night. Huddling together to keep warm, we felt like hatchlings squeezed together in a soft nest high up in the branches where no enemy could reach us.

The promise still echoed in my ears. I wrapped my tail securely around the others, and I suddenly became worried. _But am I strong enough to stand by them? _I wondered. Like Wolfpaw and the other apprentices, I was too weak to save Silverpaw when her life was in danger. I had to get stronger, especially now when ThunderClan was threatened by a new opponent. If the lynxes tried to do anything to hurt us...

I noticed that Wolfpaw was still stiff, although she tried her hardest to doze off. Her fur was bristling a little.

I noticed, in the silence, that the blizzard did seem louder than it was before. Even though the den was filled with comforting scents and snores, the outside racket was loud and furious. It was as if it was right on top of us, spitting like a monster.

"Go to sleep," I told her. "I won't let you have the nightmare again."

She gave me a small nod in thanks and curled up more tightly, squeezing her eyes shut.

The gusts boiled over and continued on its rampage.

_Stupid blizzard, _I thought, sheathing and unsheathing my claws. I wanted to run out there and yell back at it. _Shut the hell up! Can't you see that Wolfpaw can't sleep when you're out there?_

The blizzard seemed to retreat back, its gales and screams growing more and more distant and quieter. Wolfpaw sighed sleepily and relaxed.

Featherpaw wrapped her tail around me and scooted closer until our pelts were brushing.

Soon, the wind had disappeared and nothing filled the den except for sleepy mutterings and the soft sound of our breathing as it mingled together. Everything was at peace now. I closed my eyes and sleep quickly overtook me like a warm breath.


	20. Chapter 18-Red as Tulips

CHAPTER 18-Red as Tulips

"What are you waiting for, Len? Let's go!" Silverpaw's light-hearted voice traveled across the clearing to greet the young lynx as he emerged from the den. There was an angry voice that shouted from within the dark space, muffled and unclear, and the lynx seemed to shrink back for a moment. He turned and murmured something before bounding over to join us.

I nodded to him in greeting, still a bit nervous from his sheer size and monster-like paws, but at least he was friendlier than the rest of them.

Scorchpaw mewed, "We've finished our duties for today, so Dewstep won't bother us for a while." He arched his back and yawned, testing out his sore muscles. The stretch traveled all the way from his shoulder blades down to his tail in a wave-like motion. "What do you think we should do?"

Silverpaw replied, "Briarlight told me that she's running low on catmint. We should find some for her." Her brow furrowed in an expression of worry. "She's told me all about greencough, and now that it's leaf-bare it'll be more dangerous than ever. I don't want any of you guys to catch it."

The word _greencough _made me shudder. It was a word that rose up from darkness and despair, a disease that could kill even the strongest warrior. Poison in the veins. It seemed to be riding on the wind. With a start, I wondered if someone in the camp had already caught it. How long would it take for it to spread?

Len stiffened and pricked up his ears. With alarm in his voice, he asked quickly, "Greencough? What is that?"

"A disease," I answered grimly. "It can strike down a cat like a snake."

Uncertainly, I added, "Maybe we really should find some catmint. It'll suck a lot if we happen to run out right when everyone gets sick." My heart sank at the idea of having to do more work, since I had hunted and trained my guts out all day already, but the thought of a plague quickly pushed away my tiredness and chased the exhaustion away from my limbs.

Featherpaw nodded in agreement. Standing up, she bounded over to the gorse tunnel and paused. The white she-cat glanced back at us with a look of impatience on her face, her tail-tip twitching behind her. I could almost imagine her saying, _Well, what are you waiting for?_

Silverpaw laughed, "Wait up!" Turning around, she nudged the sleek bulk of the lynx, urging, "Come with us, Len. We can show you the forest."

I padded a few steps forward and meowed hesitantly, "Uh, maybe he should stay here. The others would be suspicious if they saw us leading him out of the camp."

Silverpaw raised an eyebrow skeptically, her excited grin still beaming. She could chase away entire storm clouds with that dazzling smile of hers, and I felt it warming up my chest the longer I gazed at it. It even seemed to be melting the _snow. _

"The rules don't say that the lynxes can't go into the woods," she pointed out.

"She does have a point," Scorchpaw mewed. "Now that I think about it, Bramblestar never said anything about where they could or couldn't go. He just doesn't want them to cause any trouble."

"I'm sure Len will behave himself," Wolfpaw said, her blue eyes shining warmly. "Let's leave when no cat is observing."

I was about to protest again, but the sky was as blue as a robin's egg, the sun was like a hearth despite the winter, and the snow glittered like starlight. The day was too perfect for arguing, and it suddenly dawned on me that I really didn't mind at all if Len came with us. His smile still seemed too much like a snarl, with his big teeth and pointed fangs, but his yellow eyes shone with friendliness. And besides, I wanted to know more about his life. Why did he have to leave the mountains?

The camp looked the same as it did every other day. The warriors were sharing fresh-kill, the kits were tumbling around in the snow, carefully watched by the queens. The den at the far back of the clearing, sheltered by low-hanging pine branches, seemed to be cast in shadow. The lynxes. Numerous eyes glittered from the depths of the den like snakes' eyes, blinking, half-open and always watching. One of them caught my gaze and seemed to narrow into slits, and quick as a flash, it retreated and disappeared back into the shadows.

It gave me an ominous feeling of foreboding that pulsed like waves, like electricity. I narrowed my eyes, trying to read their thoughts.

"Stormpaw! Hey, Stormpaw! Are you going to stand there all day?"

Scorchpaw was calling for me. They were already standing near the entrance, their fur glowing among the snow. I casted a quick glance around. Nobody seemed to notice us. Then, in a bound, a leap, and a few quick paces, we were rushing away, the forest calling to us with the trilling voice of excitement and the sunlight flashing through the branches in golden pieces.

The white stuff crunched under each of our paw steps in a steady rhythm. Birds flitted from thin twig-like branches and the wind carried their songs away. Just like always, every time I set foot in the forest, I was filled with a tingly feeling that sent adrenaline racing through my pulse, a beat that quivered and danced in tune with nature.

I felt alive.

The branches and sky mingled and blurred together to form shades of white and grey that whizzed past us like a movie, too fast for me to make out the small details, yet I was too happy to care.

In the back of my mind, I knew that I would most likely get in trouble for letting a lynx loose in our territory, but I didn't really care. And besides, Len wasn't a threat anyway. As we surged forward, I snuck a quick glance at him as he ran alongside me. His thick grey pelt flashed in the cold sunlight, sleek and well-groomed, billowed by the course wind that nipped my ears. His yellow eyes were bright and as warm as liquid amber, his jaws open in laughter. We swerved past the dead bracken and ploughed underneath rough bushes. After a while, I took the lead and raced ahead of the others.

It took me a few minutes to remember why we had come out here in the first place. Catmint! It grew near the abandoned Twoleg nest, didn't it? I wasn't sure if there was still some growing there, but I knew for a fact that they were hardy plants, able to withstand the cold. I hoped that there were at least a little left.

Featherpaw pressed against me, her paws thudding against the ground. For a few brief seconds, we were running side by side. I caught her eye and smiled. To my surprise, she gave a shy grin in return. Her blue eyes gleamed with some emotion that I had never seen before, and if I decided to peer in closer, I could almost make out something hidden behind those frozen blue orbs.

And then the moment was over and we arrived, panting and out of breath, at where the rundown house was standing.

It was the first time I had seen it. I had pictured it in my mind many times from what had I read in the books, but as I stood gazing before it now, the house looked so different from what I imagined.

The roof had caved in from the snow that had gathered on top, and now large gaps and holes were all that were left of the shingles. The walls, cracked and stained with mold and long-ago paint, were cluttered with dead, dry vines that seemed so much like twisted brown fingers. The glass from the windows had long since disappeared, leaving behind two square holes on the mildewed bricks. They were like a pair of sad, empty eyes, gazing out emotionlessly over the horizon. The house seemed to be made out of flimsy cardboard, held up at the seams by strings as thin as spider silk. If the wind blew too hard, or if the snow came down too fast, it would collapse with a gasping wheeze like an ox, its back broken from the sheer weight of the load.

It was an old house, dejected and filled with nothing but dust, dirt replacing the empty spot where its heart had been. It gave me a nostalgic feeling for some reason. The building, unlike the color of the white and grey background, was brown and black and the color of dead flies and mud. It felt like I was looking at it through a brown-and-yellow photograph.

"The catmint's here somewhere," I whispered, scared of talking too loud in case the noise would make the walls come crashing down. The building groaned and teetered with the wind.

Wolfpaw darted forward, unaware of the empty aura that the place gave off. She rummaged around in the snow, and with a triumphant mew, reappeared with a bundle of plants in her mouth. The perfume-like aroma trailed toward me. Even though the stalks were brittle and tinged with brown, the scent still made my mouth water.

"There's still a copious amount left," she meowed, nodding toward the snow. "Grab some."

She didn't need to tell me a second time. I pushed my nose against the white stuff, breathing deeply. The catmint's sweet smell, a wild mix of honey and mint, was as noticeable as the sun rising from above the clouds. I eagerly tugged a mouthful free from the ice and tried not to bolt it down. These herbs were for the medicine cats. The thin leaves were shriveled and dry, and I was afraid that they would crumble up to dust if I moved them around too much. After a while of hunting through the layers of frost that had blanketed the ground, Wolfpaw, Featherpaw, and I had ended up with several wads. It wasn't much, though, but at least it was enough.

Silverpaw was shivering. The tabby she-cat's tail was wrapped tightly around her legs, her breath hitching and coming out in floating white wisps.

"Cold?" I chuckled, sliding my fur against hers to share our warmth.

She squared her jaw and shook her head furiously, her brow furrowing in frustration. "Am not!" she protested, fluffing out her pelt. She shivered again with tiny movements that ran up and down her spine like ants.

Len nudged her, laughing a little. I was surprised at how small it sounded compared to his massive size. It was like the soft chirping of a sparrow. I heard a quiet happiness rippling in his voice like a pebble in a river.

"That is no way to get warm," he mewed in amusement. "Get up and run around, and you'll feel better." He perked up suddenly, his eyes glittering. "I know. There is a game that I used to play with my brother, which we called 'Hunter and Prey'. The 'hunter' closes his eyes and waits for everyone else to find a hiding spot. Then he looks around and tries to find all of the hidden 'prey'. When he sees one, he chases him until the 'prey' is caught, and then the two continue on to find and hunt down everyone else."

Silverpaw bounded up, her ears perked up in excitement. "Let's play!" she mewed. "It sounds fun."

_It's almost like hide-and-seek, _I thought, but I didn't bother to say it out loud. "Who gets to be the hunter?" I asked.

"Not me," Len said, grinning, before turning away and dashing down the slope. Wolfpaw and Silverpaw gazed at each other before breaking into smiles.

"Not me either!" Silverpaw meowed, laughing as she bounded away into the woods. "Nor me," Wolfpaw grinned, giving me a mischievous look before running off.

They had all scattered like crows before I had time to realize what was going on. I groaned inwardly, knowing that I'd have to track down each and every one of those rascals.

"But at least I'm not alone," I muttered, straightening up. "Hey, Featherpaw, help me find th—"

I paused in mid-sentence, gaping, when I realized that I was standing alone in the middle of the clearing. Featherpaw's lithe shape was slinking among the trees several feet away. She stopped, one paw poised in the air, smiled deviously and gave me a little smug wave with her tail. Then she dove head-first into the undergrowth and I was left behind, the sole loner of the entire group standing next to the rundown Twoleg nest.

I pouted, a little bit annoyed, but shrugged the feeling off. I could track them all down in minutes anyway.

They were probably a long distance away now, but their pawprints were all over the snow. I guess this was going to be an easy victory for me. Storing the catmint safely in a big dip in the ground, I crouched down and inhaled deeply, filling my lungs with the scents of the forest. The minty whiff of the herb. The old dust and rotting of the abandoned Twoleg nest. The cold tang of winter that clung on my whiskers like white moss.

And there, traveling on the wind, was a familiar, friendly smell that reminded me of white and ginger fur. Scorchpaw! He must still be nearby. Eagerness fluttered in my chest like a snowball rolling down a hill, growing bigger and bigger every second. I dashed off with my limbs flying, soaring through the white wonderland, tail streaming behind me. I imagined myself as a star hurtling through time and space, burning light-years ahead of my time and going places I had never been to before.

Panting, I followed the scent until it ebbed away into nothing but ice and frost. The smell lingered and faded. I paused, frowning, trying to locate it again. The wind must have whipped it away from me.

A few moments ago, the weather was calm and a few bits of sun shone through the grey sky like it was trying to peer through the screen of clouds, but the breeze picked up again. It quickened until it whistled like some lost bird. It tore at me and made my fur billow like stalks of grass, the icy tang biting into my eyes and making them water. It felt like someone was deliberately blowing wind into my face, like some giant fan that had come out of nowhere. Backing a few steps away, I squinted my sore eyes and crouched down, a bit alarmed by the churning wind that had suddenly decided to unleash its fury.

The angry breeze erupted into what seemed like a windstorm. Skeleton trees wavered and were almost bent back double by the sheer force of the gusts. I was afraid that they would snap like bone, like toothpicks. They bent and straightened, bent and straightened. Branches lashed wildly around. Snow blossomed up and was eroded away in fine white powder. After a brief fight, the clouds had swallowed up the sun again, and a few white flakes, tossed around by the angry gales, whistled down from the heavens. I could hardly hear from the wind roaring in my ears, tugging at my whiskers, threatening to blow me away.

I was panicking again. What was going on? Were the others alright? Steadying myself, I stood up and faced the wind head-on. With one paw in front of the other, I braced myself and tottered slowly forward.

It was like walking into a tornado. I felt that only the tips of my claws were stopping me from flying away. The noise, all of the whistling and roaring and growling of the slashing gales, only made me more terrified than ever. I could hardly see. Grit and ice were blown into my eyes and ears.

"Stop it," I yowled, gritting my teeth. The wind roared louder, louder, and louder still, so loud that I thought a ginormous monster was screaming in my ears. And then, in a few last whips of air, the wind died down into little puffs and was gone. I stiffened and blinked in surprise. Everything had turned back to normal. It was as if nothing had ever happened. Had I just imagined it all?

But the wind wasn't finished yet. It brushed my fur lightly and yanked at my tail, as if this was all just a game. I hissed in annoyance and struggled backward. This stupid weather was driving me nuts.

My breath caught in my throat. Wait. What was that? Straining and ignoring the playful breeze, I concentrated on listening. There! I thought I heard a faint chuckle in the background. A male's voice. Sounding so far away, so distant, that I wondered if my ears, or maybe the wind, was playing tricks on me.

With my pelt fluffing out in alarm, I nearly jumped out of my skin when the voice laughed right in my ear, right behind me, so close that I could almost feel his breath on my skin. Cold. A whoosh of a gale.

I turned around, my claws ready to fight and my eyes glaring. "Hey! What do you…"

I trailed off when I realized that there was no one there. Just me in the middle of a wide, white land. Utterly alone. I might as well have been talking to the wind. Tipping my head to the side in confusion, I continued staring at the place where I thought someone had been standing. Was I going insane? No, that couldn't be it. Sure as sure, like how the wolf knew the song of the moon without ever having to hear it, I knew that I was not alone.

The breeze shifted and rustled softly like petals, stirring slowly as if rising dreamily from a long sleep. It trailed across my cheek, and for all the world it felt like someone touching my face with its fingers. It was freezing, though. I couldn't help but shiver.

_"Do you ever wonder…"_

My eyes widened. I stopped breathing. All the world stood still.

That voice. I knew that voice! I spun around frantically, trying to see him, but the only things surrounding me were the snow, the trees, and the sky laden with white. I had heard that voice somewhere before, but I just didn't know where. I tried so hard to remember. It rose like a leaf traveling and dancing on the sky, and right when I could stand up and catch it, the mischievous wind blew it out of reach again. I felt like if I just tried hard enough, if I just concentrated…

All at once, the storm whistled again, a sound like a bird's call, and it was gone. This time for good.

What just happened? What was that strange wind? Straining to listen once more, I held my breath and steadied.

The cry of a lone jay. The snapping of a twig. Pawsteps on dry bracken. More steps, light-footed and rustling.

Teeth bared, I spun around and unsheathed my claws.

"Mouse dung! You've found me, Stormpaw."

Scorchpaw sighed in defeat and tugged his tail free from a trailing bramble. When he saw the shocked look on my face, he laughed awkwardly and mewed, "I was trying to sneak off toward a deeper part of the forest, but it looks like I've lost. Oh, well."

I blinked a few times, trying to process everything that happened. The wind, the voice, the pawsteps….Scorchpaw was looking at me expectantly, his head tipped to one side. I smirked.

"I haven't won yet," I said, slowly sliding toward him. "I have to catch you first, remember?" The tom gave a little startled jump, and as I lunged toward him with a triumphant look, he stiffened and jerked backward. I landed on the spot where he had been only seconds earlier, and the two of us quickly romped around, laughing, in a game that was part tag and part just running in the snow. With my arms outstretched, I flung myself toward him in one final bound. He squeaked in surprise when I crashed into him, and together, we began to roll head-over-heels down the white slope. Chunks of frost flew everywhere. All at once, the ground flew up from underneath me and I was staring up at the cold, hard-chipped sky. Scorchpaw gave a small chuckle, and with a start, I realized that we were tangled together, our tails and limbs splayed out awkwardly in every direction. I tried not to laugh when I saw his face half-covered with snow, some of it settling into his nose.

"Caught you," I murmured with victory, pinning him down with a paw to his chest.

"Uurg, fine, fine. Let me up, now. The snow is getting into my fur."

He pushed me off, gently, and stood up to dust off his pelt. I laughed again. "There's still some on your nose, mouse-brain." He squinted his green eyes and tried to peer at his nose, focusing them so that he appeared cross-eyed. "Here," I said, leaning forward and brushing off a flake that stuck to my paw. After giving his pelt a thorough lick, his serious gaze returned again, and instantly, he looked more like a miniature warrior rather than an apprentice who had spent the past minutes rolling down a hill and laughing. "We should find the others and then head back," he mewed, casting me a quick glance. I raised my eyebrow. "So soon? How come?"

He shrugged carelessly. "It's just that Dewstep and Shadefrost are probably looking for us by now. And furthermore…" He looked back, his whiskers twitching and ears angled forward. I followed his gaze, but could only spot the black, spindly trees that surrounded us and the vast white scenery. There was a wide trail of tumbled snow that led down the slope, a tell-tale sign that we had been here. It looked like an enormous snail had bulldozed its way through. A few fat, soft flakes had begun to fall. Appearing like huge wads of pure cotton, I perked up and tried to catch one on my tongue. The cotton landed and instantly began to melt from my warm breath, leaving a stinging sensation in my mouth. It was cold enough to burn. Scorchpaw was gazing at me with an anxious expression, masked by the familiar coldness in his eyes.

"You look worried," I remarked, and when he didn't retort and reply that he wasn't afraid, that real warriors never got scared, it dawned on me. "You're worried about the murderer," I mewed, and flicked my tail across his ear playfully. "Are you seriously still thinking about that? It's been a month since the last kill. He probably got bored and left."

He furrowed his brow and ducked another strike from my wavering tail. "You can't be so sure. What if he's watching us right now?" He shook his fur. "It was idiotic for us to come all the way here on our own. We're just apprentices. We should've asked one of the warriors to accompany us." His words were harsh and a little bit grazing, but I knew right away that he wasn't upset with me. His anger was aimed at himself, and I could see just how much he was cursing and muttering under his breath, his unsheathed claws leaving gorge marks in the white ground. I leaned forward and touched my tail to his flank, feeling a bit hurt when he turned away. "Don't blame yourself," I mewed reassuringly. "There's no danger here at all. And besides, Wolfpaw's almost a warrior now. She's strong enough to face any cat, and Silverpaw's probably with her. Featherpaw can weasel her way out of anything. And Len…" I couldn't help but grin when I pictured a cat trying to fight the massive lynx. Who'd be stupid enough to challenge him? "And you know nothing would dare hurt Len. So what's there to worry about?"

Scorchpaw heaved a sigh, his flanks rising and falling like the flakes that spiraled to the ground. Large feathers, soft enough to curl up in. His white fur blended in perfectly to the winter lands, and the only way I could tell he was still there was his bold, ginger patches and his vivid green eyes, as shiny and as viridian as snake scales. I stood out like a polar bear in a desert. With my dark tortoiseshell fur, I was a moving blotch of foliage and leaf mold traveling across the icy background.

"I want to head back," he insisted. For a split second, his mask disappeared and was replaced with a pleading gaze. I sighed, disappointed that I couldn't spend more time here. "Alright, alright," I mewed, feeling as if I was giving in to a little kid, and continued, "We'll have to finish the game and find the others first. Where do you think they could be?" The snow was falling at a faster pace, but not enough to make the winds rise. Soft, little feathers floated serenely at my paws. I blinked, backing away when some foreign gale rustled the fur on my chest. "Let's check the Sky Oak," Scorchpaw said, his breath unfurling into white smoke that trailed into the air. "Silverpaw's bound to be there." I nodded, willing to listen to him. With the tom in the lead, we made our way over together. We had hardly taken more than a few steps when I glanced back uncertainly. The snow fell a little faster. When I stopped walking, Scorchpaw turned his head and blinked impatiently. "What's wrong?" he demanded.

I squinted my eyes, not sure what I was looking for or who I was trying to hear. It was utterly silent. Nothing but the soft nestling of the flakes as they burrowed into the blankets of frost. It was as if a curtain had suddenly been dropped on top of us and enveloped the forest in muteness. As if the forest had forgotten to speak. There wasn't even a faint twittering of birds anywhere.

"Something's wrong," I mewed slowly, feeling the cold sensation creep into my skin.

The ginger-and-white tom rolled his eyes. "Great joke, Stormpaw, but I'm not laughing. Are you trying to frighten me?"

I lashed my tail and spat shrilly, "Stop talking! Wait. Listen." Silence fell once more. I strained, trying to detect it, trying to see…What was this feeling that was in my chest? The emotion that made my heart beat and beat, the same feeling I had of foreboding when the lynxes first came into the camp?

"Stormpaw…?" Scorchpaw asked uncertainly, with a trace of fear. "Do you hear something?"

I forgot to breathe. There. Just there. The faint crunching of snow underpaw.

Opening my mouth, I screeched, "_Run, Scorchpaw!"_

I plunged forward, pausing just in time to get an eyeful of Scorchpaw's bristling fur and wide-eyed look of surprise. I strained my paws forward as fast as I could, but I wasn't quick enough. A wall of brown and white fur clamped down in front of me and with a loud squeak of alarm, I scooted backward on shaking legs. The cat grinned widely, revealing rows of sharp teeth, as narrowed and pointed as a shark's.

I was dimly aware of Scorchpaw standing next to me, but the only thing I could feel right now were waves and waves of terror that threatened to drown me. I was cold before, but now I was chilled to the bone. I turned to run back, but several more cats blocked my way. With a sinking heart, I knew that we were surrounded. Scorchpaw pressed up next to me, and although his expression was still as stony and grim as ever, I could tell just how much he was trembling.

Finding my voice again, I shouted, "Let us go! We haven't done anything!"

The WindClan cats loomed down at us with smug expressions, knowing that they were far stronger than us. They pushed us in closer, barricading us into the circle. Biting my lip, I crouched down, fur bristling, half of me wanting to appear strong and the other half insisting that I shouldn't provoke them.

Harespring sneered down at us, an expression of hatred and triumph that made my blood boil and my claws itch. "Going so soon?" he asked in mock sympathy. "That's too bad. The fun's just getting started."

Pushing aside his terror, Scorchpaw leaped up until the two were so close they almost bumped noses. "A WindClan deputy picking fights with apprentices?" he asked, hiding the trembling in his voice and replacing it with a scathing tone. "How shameful. Does Onestar know what you're doing?" At the back of my mind, murky and swimming with dread, I remembered Scorchpaw standing up to Harespring the first time we had met, not so long ago. This time, we wouldn't be so lucky.

"Oh, don't worry," another cat piped up, his eyes narrowing. Weaselfur. His voice was deep and as cold as rime. "Onestar knows exactly what we're doing. But don't worry, we won't kill you." Scorchpaw spun around to face him, shielding me with his tail. The apprentice bared his teeth. "Are you still upset about Sedgewhisker? We didn't kill her. Just—"

Nightcloud lunged, and for a few seconds, I was gazing into her gullet, seeing her snapping teeth and the dark, gaping maw of her throat. Scorchpaw jumped backward with surprise, almost stumbling off his paws. Nightcloud jerked backward, snarling, her eyes absolutely filled to the brim with loathing. "Liars!" she spat. "Why are you acting as if you don't know anything? Foxhearts!"

A flicker of anger began to ignite inside my chest. Her words fanned it and set it alight. With my eyes blazing, with everything else forgotten, I strode my way toward her, ignoring Scorchpaw's cry of alarm. Glaring at Nightcloud full in the face, I growled, "We didn't do anything to Sedgewhisker. How do you want us to prove it?"

Nightcloud didn't speak. But Harespring did. With an impassive look on his face, he meowed in an unbending voice, "Three nights ago, we found two more bodies in the middle of the border." My blood froze. Scorchpaw opened and his mouth and hesitated, before making up his mind and tentatively mewed, "…Who?" His voice was quiet, as quiet as the snowflakes that fell all around us.

"Hootpaw and Oatpaw. Two apprentices." His snarl twisted to form a cruel jeer laced with barely controlled anger. I could tell just how hard he was trying not to snap our necks then and there. "Is this some kind of joke to you?" he asked, his voice rising. Scorchpaw and I shrank closer together, quivering. He wrapped his tail around my shoulder, trying to comfort me. As if anyone could actually save us. The snow, steadily and surely, fell harder until the flakes no longer seemed like feathers. I pressed my claws harder against the ground, silently cursing in my mind. I prayed to StarClan that someone would find us soon.

Gorsetail padded a few steps forward. I remembered him from the battle, the opponent that Featherpaw and I had fought. There was a scar, a chip taken out of his ear, and I dimly wondered if I had done that. With sparks of fright, unnerving me to the very core, I realized that he was staring directly at me. "They were lying just a few fox-lengths away from where we had found Sedgewhisker," he meowed. "It looked as if they had put up a fight. Scratches all over their pelts. Jaws open wide, as if they were trying to scream right before they were slaughtered. And the same, deep killing gash on each of their throats." A look of contempt had settled into his eyes, challenging us to prove him wrong.

My eyes widened. I didn't want to believe any of this. Maybe I had heard him wrong? There were no gusts of wind, just snow, and every sound was crisp and clear. A shudder passed through Scorchpaw's body. I snuck a quick glance, swallowing with a dry throat when I saw his expression of fear. Just plain fear. Nothing else. Harespring moved forward silently, his eyes narrowed into thin slits. His jeering smile had disappeared and was replaced with a firm, thin line.

"We won't kill you," he said again, as if that was supposed to comfort us. "But as you can probably imagine, Onestar is very upset about this. Angry. No, furious."

Following an unspoken command, the circle tightened. I shrieked shrilly, "Don't come any closer!" My yowl was high-pitched. If they weren't going to kill us, what were they going to do? I tried to plead to them with my eyes, but I might as well have been pleading with badgers. Sedgewhisker's gaze held no trace of sympathy or mercy. Nothing was there except coldness.

"Two apprentices," he said. He ran a tongue over his teeth. "What do you think, Nightcloud?" The she-cat said nothing, but bared her fangs with a furious hiss.

"And you, Weaselfur and Gorsetail?"

The two toms crouched down, glaring and spitting. Harespring was only a few pawsteps in front of us. He stopped, his ears turning, staring down at us with not an ounce of emotion on his face. It seemed that he was pondering over something. "Two apprentices," he mewed again. He unsheathed his claws, and with a sigh, said, "I hope you can rest in peace, Hootpaw and Oatpaw. May StarClan light your paths." He took another step forward. I eyed his claws nervously, not knowing what else to look at. The sheer size of those claws filled up part of my vision.

"This is the price that has been paid in full," he continued. "I hope ThunderClan thinks that it's worth it." His mouth twisted into a snarl. And then he lunged. There must have been time to dodge. Time to scream. To think. To raise my claws and fight back. But there was none. I howled in pain as I felt teeth jerk into my shoulder, as if my fur had been set on fire. I was dimly aware of Scorchpaw shouting my name.

Scrambling away, trying desperately to twist free of those steel traps, I hissed and sank my own claws into his muzzle. Instead of backing away, he only tightened his grip until I felt it chip against bone. I screamed, jerking every which way, kicking and lashing my claws over and over again, and still, the jaws were steady. They might as well have been made from stone. My shoulder ached with dull thuds, flaring up like fireworks every time he moved his teeth. Opening my eyes wide, I felt the wet blood pool around us, warm against the frost. It was mingling with Harespring's, the blood welling up from my scratch marks on his muzzle to run steadily downward in streams. He didn't seem to notice it. His eyes were bold and spiteful.

"Let go," I said, hissing, trying once again to tear free from his grip. There was a spark of hope inside me. If I tried, if I squirmed and wiggled like an eel, of if I slashed at his eyes, he just might retreat back. Any hope that I had left was immediately extinguished when I heard Scorchpaw screeching. I didn't have time to look for him. Pain exploded once again. He might as well have bitten clean through my arm, tearing it off if he wanted to do it. And maybe he did. With his eyes on fire, he wrenched backward, taking me along with him. I screamed again desperately. Through my blotched vision, through screens of red-hot pain and agony, I could see his face, his eyes, his silent glee, and how much he was enjoying this. He tightened his jaws, knowing just how much this would hurt and reveling in every drop that splattered onto the snow. His fangs ripped into my skin, my muscles. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Scorchpaw arching his back at Nightcloud and Weaselfur, blood dripping from his pelt. I was yanked away, my vision filling with flashes of white and gray as I was tossed side-by-side like a chew toy. My brains rattled inside my skull. Nightcloud was snarling. At some point, Gorsetail had joined in, yanking at my tail with his own maws. One warrior clinging onto my shoulder, one at my tail. Pulling, tugging in opposite directions. In the middle of the mess, with my throat hoarse from shouting and my eyes half-open, the pain had floated away. Or maybe it was still there. I didn't know. I couldn't think. I could hardly even breathe. All I could see were scenes of the sky and snow as I was jostled and shook, and the red blood that crashed down in waves. So much blood. Brighter than anything. Splashing against the whiteness of the snow, in spite of myself, I was kind of marveling at its beauty, at how deep a color it could be, at how the scarlet swam and trickled and moved into an ever-growing puddle and be so bold against the sparkling white. They reminded me of the tulips.

I did try to yank free, but then I stopped when I found that nothing changed. You might have thought that I could fight back. That I could twist away and land a few blows of my own on them. But I couldn't. It was like trying to attack a pair of elephants at once. They could choose to kill me right then and there by smashing my skull like a lightbulb, or by ripping open my gut, but they didn't.

They chose instead to make me scream. To watch me suffer. To paint the snow red.

The sounds were growing quieter, as if I was becoming deaf. My vision was tinged with blackness. I couldn't cry out, couldn't even move. It was as if the strength had dissolved into the pool of red. My mind was in a daze, but I was aware of being thrown around. A jarring thud that sent sparklers working up my arm and white spots dance in my vision. I must have landed on the ground. And then I was picked up again by razor-sharp teeth, this time on my hind leg. I was being dragged. Thrown again. Teeth nicking against my ribs. Wetness. I must be growing deaf. I must be dying.

The fear was replaced with a throbbing drowsiness that lapped at my aching skin. For a moment, I was free. I staggered to my paws, coughing something up, and tried to totter away. I heard a distant growl and was met with the furious look of Gorsetail before being yanked by the scruff and knocked again. I was weak, so weak. How much blood had I lost? Seas of dizziness. I had a vague notion that I was bleeding tulips.

And then, before I knew it, I was somehow lying on my back. Nightcloud had pinned me down. She leaned toward me while I watched with weary eyes, much too frail to do anything, and I heard her growl in my ear: "Never forget this day." I thought a crow was speaking to me. Her voice was hoarse and vicious. The black cat disappeared and vanished, and even though I wanted to lift my head, I couldn't. The pain didn't come yet. I didn't feel anything. While I waited for teeth to sink into me again, my foggy mind jerked slightly awake and I thought of Scorchpaw. Scorchpaw. The name sent a jolt up my spine, followed by a bout of pain that felt like I was lying on a bed of needles. He must be here somewhere. Right? Maybe he was sprawled right next to me. Or maybe they had taken him with them. I tried to call for him, but my body wouldn't obey me. The blood continued to seep from my fur. Tulips.

After waiting a while longer, my mind clicked and I wondered where the warriors had gone. Nothing happened, so maybe they had finally left us. As my brain chugged along, I gazed up at the grey sky through half-closed eyes. Everything was growing darker. Was it night-time already? Snowflakes were drifting, a vast amount of them, white blotches dancing at the edge of my gaze.

Someone coughed. A wet, gurgling cry, small and hoarse, as if someone was gargling water. It moved at the corner of my eye. Brown fur, but it wasn't Harespring. No, Weaselfur. Definitely him. Who else was it?

Something was wrong. So very wrong. As my eyes closed slowly shut, I saw the brown blur stagger with jerky movements, as if he was a queer sort of puppet, and then he was coughing up the red stuff and collapsing next to me. Through my dimming eyes, I could clearly see the panic in his expression, his eyes wide and round. A trail of red leaking out of his mouth. Raspy breathing, sides heaving up and down, struggling to get in more air. Just a few meters from my own face, but there was nothing I could do. I wasn't even sure what was going on; it felt like I was in a dream. He was gasping something, forming words, maybe trying to cry out for help, and then, in a single second, a flash of white like lightning reached down and grasped his throat in its claws. They were claws; curved and black, glinting like smooth stone. I couldn't see what was connected to those claws, only a long, slender arm, tufted with white. And then the claws tightened, and Weaselfur's eyes widened as they slipped through his throat.

I couldn't hold on any longer. I closed my eyes, everything turned dark, and I felt like I was riding through a wild spiral, dizzy and unmoving.

Death.

**OOOoOooOooooooooooOOOoOoooooOoOoOoOoO**

** It's still a bit too early for most of the apprentices to having their warrior ceremonies, but I need help in coming up with several names. I already have some suggestions thanks to ****Lazy Watermelon,**** but I'd like to have more to choose from. Especially for Stormpaw and Scorchpaw. **

**Thank you for reading!**


	21. Chapter 19-Letdown

CHAPTER 19-Letdown

When Len first saw them, when he first pushed through the opening in the den that smelled sweet yet bitter at the same time, when he saw the mess that the patrol had brought home he ignored the bristling of fur and the beginnings of a warning and strode forward briskly. After he's breathed in the scent of the two cats that lay before him and caught the eyes of the warriors who had gathered around, only then did he think, _Oh. _

He couldn't think of anything else. Nothing else but the two cats who lay there on the green moss, dried moss that was now turning wet and red and soggy.

_Oh, no, _he thought. _It's happening again._

He saw the two broken apprentices shriveled up on the nests. The cats are rushing to and fro, yelling orders, panicking, deciding to ignore the lynx who had suddenly decided to barge in on them.

Len's ears were deaf to the cries of terror and wails voicing all around him, and the only thing he could hear was the breathing of the apprentice's lungs, the soft rising and falling of the sides, the hearts beating and beating still. The heart hadn't given up yet, and neither will the bodies.

What a fragile thing a body is, he thought. The skin and fur was as soft as butterfly wings and as easy to tear. The muscles might as well have been leaves, the bones as brittle as twigs. Len concentrated on the heaving of their flanks, staring intensely as if, just by staring, he could magically make them heal. He was afraid that if he turned around and stopped looking, the lungs would cease to rise like the plummeting of a bird from the sky.

They were much too young to die, the lynx thought. If only he had been there when it had happened. His claws were massive, his shoulders powerful, and yet he still couldn't protect them.

Giving the medicine cats more room to work, he backed away until he was pressed up against the grimy wall. The den was dark, the only light filtering through the narrow opening, or what light that was left. Dried herbs were clustered in neat packages and stashed in a corner. The air was musty and dry, a fine layer of dust settling over everything. Len wasn't alone. The rest of the apprentices were nearby. Their emotions were different; Len could tell by looking at their eyes.

Wolfpaw was gazing down at her paws as if something had caught her attention, but he knew that she wasn't thinking about anything else except what had happened. Her brow was furrowed, her gaze unfocused and somehow darker in color. He noticed that her claws were unsheathed and sunk deep into the ground.

Silverpaw was huddled up next to her, their tails intertwined. She kept casting glances over to the two broken shapes, before finally sighing and collapsing into a lying position. She was upset; upset but mostly worried.

Featherpaw, sitting neatly next to Silverpaw, had a stony expression on her face that reminded Len of the mountains, of the huge, enormous mountains with their sharp-tipped peaks and eagle cries, high enough to almost touch the clouds.

How such a small and young cat could possess an expression as hard and as old as the mountains, he didn't know. She was angry, he knew, but not as angry as the black she-cat who was standing at the opposite end of the room. The cat who radiated a poisonous aura.

She looked like a monster. That was the only word to describe her with her ears flat against her face and her claws extended, kneading the ground until it was scarred with countless cross-marks, in dirt instead of in flesh. Her teeth were bared, as if she was facing an invisible enemy, but she kept quiet and her glare was lingering on the two apprentices. She was mostly watching the tortoiseshell one with the marred pelt and the wrecked shoulder.

The medicine cats didn't seem to notice the presence; they were too busy leaning down, exchanging whispers and worried glances, dashing back and forth to fetch new herbs.

The black she-cat looked like a monster, but what frightened Len the most was how she kept silent. Her nostrils were flaring, she was breathing heavily in fury, but still, she didn't utter a single sound. She kept her eyes fixed at the unmoving tortoiseshell cat. Her spine was rigid. She might as well have been a statue with a face bold enough to frighten away mountain lions.

Her dark brown eyes were wide, glaring. The fox and the dark grey tom were next to her, but they didn't seem afraid. And there was another tom, one with a tawny pelt freckled with spots and blotches, whispering reassuringly to the black cat.

After what seemed like an eternity of waiting and breathing and watching and hoping, the medicine cats leaned back with tired sighs. To Len, they looked like robins with their feathers ruffled, like birds who had been out during a rainstorm. Weary. Dusty. Wanting nothing more than to lie down and rest.

It suddenly occured to him that the sun was no longer shining and if it weren't for his night vision, the den would be as dark as pitch. It had changed from noon to night in a single hour, just as fast as that. He shifted uncomfortably, not realizing that his paws had gone numb from sitting in one place for so long.

The air was no longer filled with hushed whispers and the rustling of herbs and frenzied pawsteps. Instead, it was silent. The cats were all glancing at each other, refusing to look at each other's eyes but blinking with questioning looks, as if they didn't know what to say or do next.

It was Dewstep who finally broke the tension. "How are they?" he asked carefully, in a soft and gentle tone that did not seem to fit his scarred face and tense muscles. They were all worried.

Jayfeather seemed glad to break the tension. "They were badly beaten," he reported, slipping on one last pulp of marigold to Scorchpaw's neck. "But we've done everything we've could. If they're still alive by next morning, then they'll be fine."

Silverpaw gasped, "But if they don't..." She gazed pleadingly up at her sister. Wolfpaw drew her in closer and let her rest her head on her chest.

Pawsteps sounded from outside, growing nearer and nearer. Len stiffened, while Jayfeather and Briarlight suddenly stood up. When only Bramblestar and no one else pushed in through the opening of the den, they relaxed and sat back down.

"Is everything going along alright?" he murmured. When his amber gaze fell upon the two apprentices curled up in the center, his eyes narrowed just a fraction of an inch. But Len saw.

Briarlight mewed briskly, "Fine. Now all we have to do is wait."

Meanwhile, Shadefrost still hadn't spoken or made a single noise. Not a sigh, not a growl, not even the scuffling of a paw. She was perched there in the corner with her hackles slowly rising and her eyes watching in front of her, just watching and doing nothing else. Like a sinister owl, or a shadow.

Bramblestar then turned to the spotted tom that was resting next to Shadefrost. "You said WindClan did this?" he asked. "I wouldn't be surprised if they did." There was venom in his voice, but it was quiet and hardly trembled. Len was uneasy. It reminded him of an adder just waiting to strike.

The spotted tom met the leader's gaze. "I'm certain," he said. "Their scent was strong. And I thought I heard Harespring's voice."

Bramblestar lifted his head and gazed up at a crack in the ceiling. After a long time of silence, he blinked, and for a few seconds, his eyes flared up.

With a determined appearance, he nodded to the tom and meowed, "Alright then, Spottedblaze. Tell us everything that happened."

OOoOOoOoOoooOooOOoOoOooOOOOOoOOOOOoo

_The lynx came running as soon as he heard the bloodcurdling scream that made his pelt stand on end. There, staining the white snow a brilliant, bright shade of red, as red as poppies, were three bodies sprawled out against the white. It made his heart lurch and his blood run cold, a feeling he hadn't known since he had left the mountains. _

_ Their limbs were splayed out wildly. A mess of awkward angles and broken faces and things not right where they should be, tails and paws and half-opened eyes. It was like stumbling across and finding a badger in the snow, stopping just in time to stare in shock and then not knowing what to do after._

_ After. Worry about it after. Think after. Breathe after. Right now, the only thing he should do right now, was to carry them back to their Clan. _

_ He recognized them even though they were a bloody pulp of mangled fur and sliced-open flesh. Tortoishell. Ginger-and-white. But who was that other body lying next to them? Brown with white paws, although he wasn't sure since the blood absolutely stained the pelt almost completely crimson._

_ Another cat came running out of the woods in the opposite direction of where he had come from. Len, seeing the intruder, spat menacingly and stood over the broken bodies, shielding them as best as he could. _

_ The cat shrank back suddenly, eyes widening in fear, but when he saw the blood on the snow they narrowed, although the fear was still there._

_ "Wh-who a-are you?" he hissed, unable to keep his voice from trembling. "What did you do to them?"_

_ Len could understand. Even if he didn't know their language, he could understand the way the cat's fur was fluffed out like a porcupine's, the scathing tone and the way the claws itched. The look in the gaze, frenzied with the terror and yet desperatley trying to cover it up._

_ It wasn't an enemy, the lynx finally decided. It couldn't be, because why else would the cat just stand there, facing everything instead of running away. Why else would the cat hiss and spit and ask, 'What did you do to them?' _

_ It wasn't an enemy who was coming to take Stormpaw and Scorchpaw away from Len. Because if he was, why was he suddenly darting forward, ignoring the threat of the lynx, and lapping away at the stained pelts in an effort to wipe away the blood?_

_ "Hang in there," the spotted cat was murmuring in between licks. "I'll get you back to ThunderClan. Just hang in there."_

_ When the lynx shifted uncertainly, he snapped his head back up and hissed. _

_ "Who are you?" the cat demanded to know. "Why are you on ThunderClan territory?"_

_ Despite the anger in the voice and the threatening gesture of the claws, Len felt relieved that the tom had come. He hadn't met a lot of comforting cats on his journey; most of them just froze up and hissed until he left. But this cat was different._

_ The tom's question to him hadn't been a dismayed shriek of 'You did this, didn't you?' or 'Filthy murderer! This is your fault!'_

_ Instead, despite the trembling anger and overwhelming look of sheer terror, the spotted tom had faced the lynx and asked what he was doing here and who he was._

_ "Do not worry," he told the cat. "I am a friend of ThunderClan. I know these apprentices. Please, I need your help in taking them back." _

_ The tom blinked, once or twice, and Len was suddenly certain that the next thing the cat would say was to leave this place and never come back, and make sure you stay out!_

_ He was taken off guard when the spotted cat casted a nervous glance down at the mess, before looking up again, directly into the lynx's eyes, and meowing calmly, "Alright. I'll help you."_

_ Utter trust. Faith that Len wasn't the one who did this, wasn't the one who had leaped onto the apprentices and stained the snow brilliant red. It took a lot to look at a lynx directly in the eyes._

_ "We need to hurry," the spotted cat meowed urgently. "But wait, who's this? He doesn't smell like ThunderClan." He bent down to sniff at the third body before reeling backward in shock. "He's hardly alive, but he's from WindClan. What's he doing on this land?" He shook his head hurriedly. "But never mind that. We need to take him along with us either way. Are you strong enough to carry two cats?"_

_ Len nodded, and as gently as a giant could, deposited Scorchpaw and Stormpaw over his shoulders as gently as if he were carrying eggs, before he started running again._

_ They were jostled and bounced a bit by the pounding of his paws through the snow, and he was terrified that he would hurt them even more. They didn't move and hung limply, heads lolling and limbs dangling like broken tree branches. It seemed that they were dead, and this thought spurred him to run even faster._

_ The spotted cat sped alongside him, trying as best as he could to keep up. The WindClan cat was sprawled out on his back, looking as dead as fresh-kill._

_ "Don't slow down for me," the spotted cat gasped. "Just keep on running. Don't look back."_

_ It seemed like a lifetime of running. Run. Run. Run. The trees and snow seemed to never end. And yet, the cat's words brought in an inkling of a memory that almost made him want to stop. _

'Don't slow down for me. Just keep on running. Don't look back.'

_ Those words had been spoken before by an entirely different tongue that was no longer with him. It brought a pang to his heart, but still, he surged on, his paws never faltering. When he had heard those words the first time, in the midst of the mountains, claws reeling, lynxes fighting, he did slow down, stop running, and turned around to look back at Chogan._

_ This time, there was no second chance, nobody to cover for him in case he fell. His friends' lives were on the line._

_ The camp finally loomed into view, and it made his heart sing out in relief. Ignoring the gasping of the other cats, he broke in through the gorse tunnel, oblivious to the sting of thorns, and immediatley followed the smell of herbs to the medicine cats' den. _

_ "What happened?" Shadefrost asked, eyes widening. Her voice became high-pitched and alarmed, like a bird's song right before the predator strikes. "Sam? Sam, can you hear me?"_

_ A flurry of voices._

_ "Make room! Get inside!"_

_ "Stop pushing! Briarlight! Get me some marigold and cobwebs. Move, now!"_

_ "Hurry, hurry!"_

_ The voices blended in together until everything turned into chaos._

_OoOOOOooOoOoOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoOooOO_

"And that's how it happened," Spottedblaze finished quietly. "We carried them back as fast as we could."

Silverpaw asked nervously, "What happened to that WindClan warrior? Isn't he Weaselfur?"

"He's dead," the fox said without hesitating. "I checked just now." She broke off abruptly, as if she had wanted to say more but decided to change her mind.

They waited. Ember let out a small sigh through her nose and blinked down at her paws. "He couldn't have lived either way. There was a slash on his neck. Almost deep enough to cut his head off."

A ripple of shock spread through the den like a stone plummeting into a stream. Shadefrost didn't move, but Bramblestar did. He surged upward to his paws, his eyes blazing, teeth bared.

"Was it the same cat who had killed Moleclaw and Sedgewhisker? Who did this?"

Spottedblaze suddenly perked up, as if he had forgotten to say something, but then cowered back when he caught sight of the leader's enraged form.

Bramblestar forced his fur to lie flat, and tried unsuccessfully to calm down. "Go on, Spottedblaze. Is there something you want to add?"

The small cat flickered his gaze from one end of the room to the next, nervously. "F-from what I found, it seemed that Stormpaw and Scorchpaw were fighting with Weaselfur over something. They were near the ShadowClan border, but Weaselfur was deep in ThunderClan territory. I think, that maybe...Scorchpaw and Stormpaw spotted the intruder and that's how they got in the fight."

"But they were all badly beaten, and one of them wound up dying." This time, it was Dewstep who spoke. "I hardly think that two apprentices are able to do that much damage to an experienced warrior. No, the murderer who killed Moleclaw did this. I'm sure of it. Like Ember said, we've got the mark on Weaselfur's throat to prove it."

Len was lost now. Murderer? Was there a killer on the loose?

"But we'll have to ask Scorchpaw and Stormpaw to confirm it if they wake up."

_If_ they wake up_. _Not _when. _Len shuddered.

It was then that Shadefrost moved. She shifted her stance until she was standing up, and even then the intensity of her gaze did not waver. It was like watching a snake wake up. The sliding of a scaly gaze void of any warmth. The glint of fangs hidden just underneath the lip. The slender, darting serpent tongue. Poison.

Shadefrost shifted again, sliding her eyes to stare at the motionless bodies before her, before slowly warming up and trudging outside.

She spoke. "We'll have to return Weaselfur's body to WindClan, I suppose. Leave it to me." The snake tongue flickered again. "I need to have a word with Onestar."

Dewstep, Ember, and Spottedblaze immediatley began to pad toward her, but she shook her head. "Stay and look after Sam and Scorchpaw for me. Please." A command, not a request.

And then she was gone.

Len was unsure what to make of it. He was surprised at how she acted. When he first met her, she was as warm as the sun, with a kind smile and grinning eyes, but now, she had completely and utterly changed.

Seeing Stormpaw like this set her on fire, he realized. He almost felt pity when he imagined just what kind of a 'talk' she was planning to have with whoever Onestar was, and he was sure that it wouldn't be pleasant.

"Clear out, now," Jayfeather meowed. "I don't like so many visitors crowding this tiny den. They can rest without cats constantly hovering over them." Even though he didn't move from where he stood, the medicine cat's words seemed to shove the warriors out with invisible arms.

There was a rustling of leaves and pelts as bodies moved.

"I don't think any cat has introduced you to us," Wolfpaw mewed when they were outside.

Spottedblaze gave a small, shy smile. "Sorry about that," he said, clearing his throat. "My name is Spottedblaze. I'm one of Shadefrost's friends, and I first met her back when I was an apprentice. In truth, I had no idea that she had finally come back until several sunrises ago."

Ember leaned forward to touch noses with him. "It's good to see you again," she murmured. "It's been a long while since you've last laid eyes on Shadefrost, hasn't it?"

"Yes," the tom replied. He did have a soft voice, Len noticed, as soft as moss. Even when he did yell, it wasn't louder than the clattering of stones underpaw.

The tawny-colored cat blinked and tipped his head back to stare up at the large swath of stars that twinkled from the purple-robed heavens. "Yes," he sighed, like the sighing of the wind from the pines. "It's certainly been a while. A very, very long while." Mournful and filled with a nostalgic melancholy.

Straightening up again, he almost looked embarrassed as he said, "I think I should get going now."

Dewstep dipped his head. "Are you sure that you can't stay longer? Bramblestar won't mind."

Spottedblaze shook his head. "No, it's best if I leave now."

With a small chuckle, he added, "Rowanstar'll feed my innards to the buzzards when he finds out where I am and save my bones for the kits. See you, Dewstep and Ember."

They watched as the lithe shape walked away, gradually growing smaller and smaller until it melted into the dark shadows of the trees.

As if he could read all of their thoughts, or catch the nervous scuffling of paws, Dewstep took command and meowed, "Get some sleep. It's going to be a long night."

"What if we get murdered in our nests?" Silverpaw mewed timidly.

"No one's going to die tonight. Not if I can help it," the warrior replied, his eyes flashing with a hidden strength. "Ember and I will look after Scorchpaw and Stormpaw."

Featherpaw tilted her head to one side with a questioning but serious look. She was asking for something. When the others only blinked back at her, she nodded her head quickly at the gorse tunnel.

After a while, it was Ember who finally figured it out. "Shadefrost can take care of herself," she reassured her. "She's a lot stronger than you think."

Wolfpaw ushered the apprentices back toward their den, while the fox and Dewstep headed in the opposite direction.

"Have a good night, Len," she called, turning her head to stare at the lynx. Len nodded in return.

As he turned around to pad slowly back to his own den, he couldn't help but catch a few parting words.

"Come inside, Featherpaw." The voice was Silverpaw's. "You won't want to catch a cold. Here, I'll share my moss with you."

With a small smile, he imagined the mute, white she-cat sniffing the air one last time before ducking her head back into the den. From within came a few scufflings, soft mews, and then finally, everything was still.

He was surprised at how quickly sleep could descend on the small camp like the sweeping of an owl's wing. As he neared his own den that was filled with his own kind, he hesitated before pushing in through the opening.

Darkness inside. A few coughs and last-minute mutterings. Glowing eyes, yellow and green.

Len pressed up against the wall, hoping he wouldn't have to speak to anyone tonight. But he was wrong.

From the corner of the den came a low growling noise that was like a groaning sound from a gutter: "And where were you today, Len?"

Facing the wall, the younger lynx replied without flinching, in an even tone, "Helping the cats out. They needed a few herbs." Which wasn't a direct lie.

Silence from the _ogama. _Len willed himself to breathe again.

"Are you disobeying me, Len?" Ahote began again. Len could just imagine the leader's hulking, muscular body, his eyes as piercing as a falcon's despite the fact that he was blind. "You know what happens to naughty kits. The wolves spirit them away."

He knew the nursery tale as well as he knew his own heart, and a pang stabbed through it when it brought back memories of him and Kateri in the mountains, and of Chogan. He pushed them away. Those moments were over.

Ahote was silent once again. Len could hear the quiet breathing of the other lynxes surrounding him. Their eyes were glittering with a strange light.

"Please don't doubt me, my _ogama," _Len mewed. "I am still as loyal as ever."

The older lynx grunted, which was a reply that could've meant anything. It wasn't a happy sound.

"Loyal?" another voice said. Kateri. Although Len didn't dare to look up, he could imagine her slithering around him like a serpent. There was a faint laughter in her voice that might as well have been triumph, like a woodpecker that had finally succeeded in capturing a pesky worm. "Loyal? Is loyalty the same thing as slipping away from your own comrades to frisk around with your enemies?"

Len's head snapped up, seconds before he could control his actions. He saw Kateri's face full of spite and scorn, the yellow-green orbs of her gaze shining in the dark.

"Y-you saw?" he squeaked.

"I saw everything that you did. Laughing. Rolling around. Playing. Tell me then, Len," she spat, her voice rising at the end. "Would you make peace with your enemies rather than hunt with your own kind?"

"I-it's not like that!" Len cried, forgetting to keep his volume down. He also forgot one important rule: _Never _contradict your leaders. It was traitor's talk.

Ahote rumbled like thunder. "Silence." Len flinched.

"You hardly seem like one who would forget so easily, but then again, you were never very bright," Ahote rumbled on. "Have you forgotten what the cats did to our home? To our fellow comrades? What they did to _Chogan?" _The name came out as a hiss of steam. The other lynxes were getting riled up now. They gathered beside their leaders, staring at Len with what seemed like amusement.

Kateri sighed mournfully. "Ah, my little star," she murmured, her face wracked with grief. "Chogan was always the best of the best. Unfortunatley, it was you who managed to live."

Len said nothing but hung his head. He prayed to the gods that this cruel lecture would be over swiftly.

What Ahote said next made his blood run cold and his hackles turn to ice. His stomach tied itself up into knots.

The _ogama _growled, "Traitor. Betraying us all by disobeying me and dancing with the cats. How long were the planning to keep this up? When will you finally prove that you are worthy of taking Chogan's place?"

"I'm sorry," the young lynx whispered. "I'll try harder next time-"

"There is no next time. I have given you enough chances, and yet you throw them away like boulders every time. I am done dealing with you. You are now banished from my group."

Len looked up and glared at the elder full on the face, a bold move that made the other lynxes set up a wail and Kateri to cuff him at the side of the face.

Reeling, he staggered and tried to will the burning on his cheek to die down. Was Ahote serious? Was he actually...exiled?

No. He must have heard wrong. His heart thudded desperatley in his ears as he crouched down dutifully at Kateri's paws, a gesture that looked like bowing.

"Please," he whispered, choking back a wail. "I'm worthy of staying."

"You are a failure, Len. I hope you can realize that." He's called him a failure many times, yet this one cut him to the quick.

Len wanted to plead again, but he knew it was futile. Casting side glances at the other lynxes, he tried to beg them with his eyes. _Please, _he thought. _Give me another chance._

Most of them looked away or glared back with snarls, unemotional and merciless. Even the kits didn't help. They scuffled at their mother's sides, not caring what was going on. One stopped playing long enough to peer at Len, before mewing, "Sorry, Len. Try better next time."

It took all of his willpower to not leap up and argue back at Ahote. There was nothing he could do. No more begging, no more words, no more chances.

As he trailed out of the den, he felt the eyes of hundreds burn into the back of his skull.

"A lynx is a proud fighter who hunts and puts the wellfare of his companions in front of his own," he heard one of them mutter. "He trains to be the best, the toughest, and the one most able to protect the weak and unworthy. Everything he does is for his group. Everything he does is for his _ogama. _Power must not be wasted."

"Hmph," Kateri hissed. "Len will never understand that. Chogan's life was a waste. Oh, my poor little star..."

Len turned away, refusing to hear anymore.

As he padded into the quiet, empty starlit clearing, he felt hollow and truly alone for the first time. What should he do? There was a piece missing from his chest. He felt half-full. For the first time, even though he had never been held highly in the eyes of his peers, he didn't have a group of lynxes to back him up. He didn't have a warm nest to sleep in or a place to call home. He didn't have any companionship, or the feeling of fur next to his as he drifted off to sleep. No fresh-kill to share with anyone, no duties, no responsibilities, no nothing.

A lone wind moaned through the tree tops, moaning like a wolf's cry, moaning like his sick heart.

He was utterly and entirely alone, and it made him feel as vulnerable as a fish out of water. For a few minutes, he felt light-headed and he staggered. His mind reeled. He wanted to vomit, but instead gave a few dry heaves. He felt like he was suffocating, like he couldn't get enough air. Maybe the Three Spirits were punishing him for failing in his duties.

He was, like Kateri had told him time and time again, a curse. Born underneath a bad star. Maybe his curse was finally catching up to him.

An exiled traitor is supposed to leave and never come back. Len knew that it was his one and only responsibility, the last task that Ahote had entrusted him. He teetered over to a dead tree and leaned against it, drawing in a few panicked breaths.

He thought about what had happened. One of the kits, with wide, innocent eyes, had said sweetly, "Sorry, Len. Try better next time."

They didn't care. They never cared. It was a rule to leave behind a dying lynx and move on to save the surviving ones. In a few weeks, the longest a moon, they would forget the whole incident and maybe even forget he ever existed. The older ones had simply turned away and refused to look at him, while the others spat and agreed with the _ogama _at how perfectly and utterly worthless he was. Nothing but a bad curse.

He heaved himself to his paws again and started on his way. However, instead of moving toward the gorse tunnel, the exit, he turned and headed toward the medicine cats' den.

Cautiously, he stalked his way inside. It looked the exact same as he had left it, except now, sleep had seeped its way into the walls. Dewstep and Ember were curled up side-by-side next to the wounded cats. There were several snores coming from deeper in the den, signifying that the medicine cats were residing in the other rooms.

The warriors were dozing peacefully. As quietly as he could, Len settled beside Stormpaw and tucked his paws underneath him.

Her face was outlined in the silver moonlight. She looked peaceful. Her pelt had been cleaned of the blood, and instead of the redness it was plastered with herbs and cobwebs. Every once in a while, she would shudder or her foot would twitch. Then she would calm down again.

Len's ears filled with the breathing of the sleeping cats. He reveled in it. After all, he would soon come to forget what the sound of a den filled with peacefulness felt like. He was alone, with no group to come back to and no one to miss him.

For some reason, he didn't want to leave just yet and instead sat there, eyes half open and listening to the breathing. Stormpaw and Scorchpaw were still alive. Maybe they would be dead the next morning. Maybe not. The important thing was that they were alive right now, at this very moment.

Len didn't know what drove him. In all his life, he was taught to fight for the group, hunt for the group, live for the group. His very existence was to protect the group, obey the _ogama, _and as the nursery tale went, naughty kits were spirited away by wolves and the obedient ones were blessed with charm and grace.

He wasn't charming nor graceful, and he still hadn't made his way down the belly of a wolf yet.

He hesitated. He didn't know why he wanted to do this. Maybe it was a shred of disobedience, a sort of revenge he wanted to pay back to the lynxes. But he wasn't angry. He was never angry. He was sad, upset, confused, and a mixture of other things, but he wasn't angry.

He was confused because he had seen how the cats treated each other. Spottedblaze, a cat from another Clan, had been willing to rescue Stormpaw and Scorchpaw. He still wasn't sure what their rules were, but he had a basic understanding that cats from other Clans weren't supposed to help each other.

'Aiding an enemy only brings trouble,' Ahote had growled time and time again.

'It's a sign of weakness,' Kateri had always agreed. 'Like standing up and allowing a moose to run you over. It's shameful. A disgrace to a full-born lynx."

And yet, Spottedblaze, without a shred of hesitation or shame, had looked Len full in the eye and said, with grim determination: 'Please, I need your help in taking them back.'

And Len had helped because these cats were his friends, and if he didn't, Stormpaw and Scorchpaw would die.

These cats were strange, he thought. Didn't Spottedblaze know that if he helped an enemy, he was weak?

And everything about it was strange in its own way. The apprentices were clearly dying. If they had been lynxes, they would have been abandoned without a second thought. 'Weak members are only a burden,' Ahote growled. 'It's better to save your effort for the stronger, honorable ones. They are the ones you should look up too."

And the mute one, the one named Featherpaw. If a lynx was born with a disabilility, such as deaf ears or crippled limbs, it would immediatley be discarded. Such signs were often bad omens from the gods. And besides, it would be too much work in caring for a lynx who was too weak to do anything in return.

But these cats were so, so very different. They took in their weak ones; they let Featherpaw stay. They saved the dying ones; they took Stormpaw and Scorchpaw back. They aided their enemies; they let Spottedblaze rescue their apprentices without a second thought on which Clan he came from.

If I were a cat, Len thought, would Bramblestar exile me for making friends with my enemies? Would their kits turn to me with wide eyes and say, 'Sorry, Len, try better next time'? It was hard to believe.

The moon was rising. It was time to leave. But this wouldn't take long at all.

He shifted closer to Stormpaw until he could see the fluttering of her eyelids like butterfly wings and the stirring of her chest, softly like the breeze.

Maybe he wanted to do this because, in all his life, from his birth in the mountains to his arrival in the forest, he had never had anyone he could talk to who was so willing and sympathetic to listen. He never had a comforting shoulder to lean on, or a place to go to when his heart needed it most. All his life, he was regarded as less than a lynx, less than worthy, useless, a curse, a bad omen.

Ever since he was young, he had wanted to leave the mountains and travel the world. He got that wish. And in doing so, he had met a Clan with strange traditions and filled with even stranger cats.

Maybe he wanted to do this because he knew that she was asleep. Everyone was asleep. No one could see what he was about to do, and no one could listen and wake up and remember, but at least he could open his mouth and speak what his heart had been rioting about.

As he talked, his chest felt lighter somehow.

With the soft moonlight filtering into the warm, sleeping den, with the hushed breathing surrounding him, Len whispered into Stormpaw's sleeping ear and quietly, he told her the story of how he was born, why he and his group had left the mountains so long ago, and why he was leaving again.


	22. Chapter 20-Bet Your Life On It

CHAPTER 20-Bet Your Life On It

It was on a day like any other when the wind stood fair and the sky was the bluest of blues, when the sun was rising to chase away the night and to drape the highest peak of the tallest mountain in a golden wardrobe.

But as the sun rose on this particular day, it also brought with it the rising of a kitting mother and her newborn litter.

The lynxes, naturally, all knew how to deal with it. They had to, because in this place with danger lurking around every corner, with cracks in the walls and where a single misstep could send a brute falling a million miles away from a crag, knowledge was powerful enough to save lives.

They knew where the plants grew best even in this altitude, so high up in the sky that they could almost touch the stars and where little vegetation was to found except when one looked in the right places. Black cohosh thrived in the shade, bilberries could always be found sprouting underneath the trunks of dead trees, evening primrose and ginkgo grew with their backs facing the wind, always.

Lavender for dulling the pain, kava for inducing sleep, and milk thistle to strengthen one's will and muscles, just as the ancestors have taught them.

When the new mother's wails had subsided and had calmed down enough to make sense of what had happened, everyone was finally able to breathe in relief because, in a mountain range frought with danger and rocky ledges and hungry predators, two newborns had successfully made it out into the world without hardly any trouble at all.

Some said it was because of the St. John's wort with its magical healing properties, others swore it was because of the horsetail spores which had renewed the mother's strength long enough to finish the birthing process. Still others claimed that the Three Spirits had given them their blessing and were watching over them, and a few had heard, eagerly, the screaming of eagles overhead which almost always meant good luck.

"Ahote," Koko said as her leader returned after a long hunting trip that had taken three days. He had arrived just in time.

Koko had wanted to add to it, to say more and to explain the eager look on her face, but she didn't need to. Ahote could tell without anyone saying it out loud. It seemed that it was a trait passed down from generations; leaders always seemed to have an inner wisdom in them that told them what was going on.

The crowd parted to let Ahote pass. He lumbered in front of the cave that had been carved out of stone and felt the wind press its fingers against his fur, caressing him. When he heard the high-pitched sounds of squeaks and little mews coming from within, the shadow of a smile darted across his broad face and he ducked his head and pushed his way in.

He saw that the den was dark, and that the sunlight through the opening casted his shadow across the smooth, rock floor, a figure with broad shoulders and a wide head.

When he moved, the air moved, and so did the mountains; Kateri sensed the movement as always and lifted her head to greet her mate. She looked weary; her eyes were half-open and glazed.

An unspoken command had been issued. As the male lynx neared, she nodded her head to her belly, and nothing could be seen there except for a thick covering of her lightly mottled grey fur. But then it moved, and stirred and kicked like the nodding of leaves on a tree.

Ahote leaned down to see what his kits would look like. Strong and well built like their father, or lanky and swift-moving like the mother? A mix of both? Hardly able to conceal his eagerness, Ahote nosed the two bundles of new fur gently.

Their fur was still slightly wet with the birth, but continued to dry from the warmth of Kateri and the breathing of the mountain air. And then, as Ahote held his breath, the first pair of eyes opened: a cloudy blue like foggy afternoons, but it would soon clear up after a few weeks to become yellowish-green like the other lynxes.

Because the kit had opened his eyes first, Ahote named it first.

'Zeb', a typical one-syllable name for a newborn, meaning "blessing" in their language. They truly thought that he was a blessing: alert and conscious, with not an ear nor a tail out of place. Perfect in every way, and in this kit the gods must have spared him a weakness or a disability.

Ahote relaxed slightly. Zeb appeared to look normal enough. After a few days, if his strength kept up, there would be no need for Ahote or Kateri to sacrifice him to the eagles. Weak kits were traditionally starved or abandoned, as there was no chance for weaklings to survive in the harsh claws of the mountains.

Zeb, at least, seemed promising.

And on to the second kit. Kateri frowned.

She nudged him with her nose, but he didn't move. His eyes were shut. He appeared to be dead.

Kateri glanced at Ahote, knowing that he was thinking the exact same thing as her: an imperfect. Most likely stillborn.

Like the creaking of boulders, as if the male lynx was made out of stones himself, Ahote slowly leaned down and grasped the still kit's scruff in his mouth, his face emotionless.

As he was beginning to turn around, to leave the den and toss the kit down a cliff or abandon it in a place where the eagles could easily reach, the kit gave a slight twitch, a small cough that sounded like the gasping for breath, and then slowly but surely, the two blue eyes finally opened.

Without another word, Ahote walked back and deposited the kit back in the half-circle of Kateri's belly next to the first.

The two parents looked at each other once again, daring the other to speak first, to decide.

When Kateri didn't move, Ahote said with a voice that creaked like branches: "Len."

Not an order or a verdict or a decision. Just a name.

Kateri pricked her ears up in surprise. She was expecting him to say something different, but she didn't object.

Zeb, with his eyes closed again in sweet bliss, was busy suckling. His body, with the help of his mother's own heat, was growing warm and drier with each passing second. Len's eyes were closed as well, but he was having trouble feeding. He kept wandering off in the opposite direction of where his mother was, in a blind fashion, stumbling and teetering with Kateri frowning and constantly having to nudge him back to her belly where the milk was.

At last, he succeeded. With a squeak, the kit settled down beside his brother and started suckling. Kateri watched her mate to see if he had changed his mind or not; she wanted him to say something.

Ahote knew what she was thinking, for as he padded away to the outside of the cozy den, his decision was the same as before: "Let him live."

And Kateri, despite her best judgement, obeyed.

OoOOoOoOoOoooOOOOoooOoOOooOoOoOoOoOo

"Wolves, as you know, are creatures made out of night and shadows and are constantly watching for an opportunity of a meal. Do you know what their favorite food is?"

"Rams?"

"Yes, but there is something they crave more than rams. _Lynx kits. _And not just any old kit will satisfy them; the wolves can smell when a kit has been naughty or obedient. They spare the good ones, but when they come across a naughty one-gulp!"

"Even when they see a good kit and a bad kit at the same time?"

"Yes, my little star. When they stumble across a sweet, obedient kit and a nasty, bad one at the same time, they will always attack and eat the bad one. The good kits, you see, are protected by the Three Spirits who always love and watch over us."

"But Elan told me that the Three Spirits left the earth a long time ago. So how can they still be protecting us?"

This time, it was Len and not Zeb who had spoken. Kateri frowned.

_She frowns a lot, _Len thought.

In an exhasperated tone of voice, Kateri answered, "The Three Spirits have not abandoned us yet. The world is still alive and the sun and moon rise and set every day and night, just as they have at the beginning of the universe. Now, as I was saying. Sometimes, when the wolves are particularly full and no longer hungry, instead of eating the naughty kit, they spirit him away. They snatch them up with wicked claws and gallop underground to their homes, where they force the kit to work for them and slave away."

Zeb was listening intently. The little kit's eyes widened at the thought of it. "Momma," he mewled, scuffling closer to the queen. "What if the wolves come for me tonight?"

"Do not worry, little star," Kateri crooned. "You're a good kit. The wolves wouldn't dream of harming a single hair on your pelt."

While she cooed, Len pounced on her stumpy tail, pretending that it was a fat, juicy worm. He buried his face into the wiggling fur and mewed, with his mouth full of fur, "I'b caw it!" (I've caught it).

Kateri yanked her short tail out of reach and began to groom him hastily, her rough tongue smoothing out his fur that was as soft and as grey as duckfluff.

"Let me go!" Len whined, trying unsuccessfully to wiggle away.

"Your pelt is sticking up all over the place," Kateri growled in between licks. "You have to learn to keep yourself clean, little sparrow. I'm not the mother of a dusty furball."

Len, struggling to get away from the attacking tongue, suddenly pricked up his ears when he sensed the vibrations of an approaching lynx. The pawsteps were soft and barely noticeable, but like all lynxes, he had learned to speak the message of the mountains and decipher the secrets it had hidden.

Zeb said out loud what Len had been thinking. "Father's back! Come on, Len, I'll race you to him!"

Partly because this new idea of racing sent energy sparking down his limbs and partly because Kateri could see the eagerness in his eyes, the grip on him loosened and Len almost tripped over his clumsy paws in an effort to outrun his brother.

The two kits squeaked with joy as they scampered out of the den like a pair of gobbling quail zigzagging through a moorland. The sunlight greeted them when they made it outside. Although the sun was a golden disk in the sky and was as bright and round as ever, the rays must have bounced off the high, soaring clouds because the mountains were still frigid with morning frost and dew.

Every member of the hunting party had brought back a prize: hawks, cardinals, moles, snakes, squirrels. But the best one was carried limply on top of Ahote's towering shoulders: a young male elk, the antlers just slightly budding from its skull, two bony lumps covered in dark brown velvet.

Len, race forgotten, stopped to stare in awe at his father's catch. The elk was almost as big as Ahote himself, yet he had no trouble in carrying it.

While the other lynxes were busy gulping down their own prey or sharing it with others, Ahote slipped into Kateri's den. When he emerged moments later, his shoulders were empty and the prey was gone.

"That was for your mother," he explained. Len and Zeb were still moons too young to eat meat.

Len could barely contain his excitement. He decided that when he was strong and old enough, he would set out in the wild on his own and catch the largest elk he could find. The biggest one in the entire world. He could almost imagine the bewilderment on the others' faces and the pride in Ahote's gaze.

The clearing was filled, instantly, with the sounds of conversations and chewing. Lynxes were tearing at meat, stripping it from bone, heads and paws red and spiked with drying blood from their prey.

In an almost silent tone, Ahote began lumbering away from them and mewed, "Follow me."

Len immediatley broke away from the scene and tagged along, Zeb following in pursuit.

Their father walked in long strides, looking ahead with his head tall, and to Len, he looked exactly like a bold-faced eagle facing the rising sun. He puffed out his chest and tried to imitate the walk.

It earned him a giggle from Zeb. "You're still too tiny to be the _ogama," _he teased. "It'll take years for you to grow into that title."

Len huffed back,"I ain't tiny! I'm plenty big!" He straightened up as tall as he could to prove his point, ignoring the fact that he was a head shorter than his brother.

He sunk his claws into the stone floor just in time to avoid crashing into Ahote's heels. Tipping his head to one side, he asked why they had stopped, and the older lynx said nothing but merely nodded his head at what lay in front of him, telling him without words to find it out for himself.

Len and Zeb scampered in front of their father, in front of the mountains, and with gasps of awe, they saw what seemed to be the top of the very world they were standing on.

The morning sun were inches above the dark line that was the horizon. Its golden eyes were melting onto the tops of the mountains so as to drape everything in gold. The ground was a million miles below them and the clouds hung overhead, just a few inches out of reach, like swaths of thistledown.

The sky was vast and broad and as endless as the freedom that had settled itself into Len's young and strongly beating heart. The three were standing on top of a jutting crag. Nothing was next to them or above them except for the open air. Nothing but the blue sky.

The ground below them was green with grass and flowers. A thin ribbon of glittering silver cut through the green and wound in long distances until its edge touched the distant horizon. A river, Ahote told them. It looked like an extremely thin and blue-grey viper with its head on the edge of the earth and its tail touching the foot of the mountains.

The land wasn't completely green. It was a combination of yellows and browns and tans and blacks, broken in places by clusters of trees and big, shadowed dips called valleys.

Len couldn't even begin to fathom how big and grand and absolutely boundless the world was to him. They were standing at the tallest peak of the highest mountain, on top of the earth, kings of everything. His heart began to soar like the eagle's. He felt that he could soar right to the top of the sky and back.

"I wanted to show you this," Ahote said. "Now you can truly understand how majestic and beautiful the mountains are. They are the largest things in the entire universe; nothing is comparable to its grandure and sturdiness. Grass and trees all wither and die, but the mountains will live forever. They had been here since the dawn of the world and will remain to see the end of it. It is a priviledge for you to be born a lynx. You are a part of the beauty that is the mountains. Never forget that."

Len wanted to burn the image of the scene in his mind. Here was he, standing shoulder to shoulder with his brother and with his father that was his _ogama. _Standing together on the top of the world, as one, as united as the trees are to birds and the moon is to stars.

As they stared, Len barely heard the sound of his father's voice over the singing of his heart.

His father continued, "At first, the mountains may seem like a wild and vicious place, empty except for lifeless rocks and the merciless wind. But if you are willing to listen to what it has to say, and if you allow it to teach you, it will lead you to its very soul."

"Wow," Zeb breathed. When Len casted a glance at his brother, he saw that his eyes were wide and shining. He closed his eyes as the wind dipped down to ruffle his fur.

"The mountain speaks to every lynx. The lynx and the stones are one and the same. We are sturdy and strong, able to withstand anything be it sleet, snow, rain, or hail. Because you two will one day take over my role and lead the group on your own, it is important that you learn how to listen to the mountain's call. Follow me."

Ahote turned and padded away. Len and Zeb exchanged careful glances, grinned widely at each other, and chased after their father, eager to learn.

OoooOoOoOoooOoOOOoooOooOoOoOoOoOO

They had learned to judge by the scent on the wind just how far away prey might be. The certain way a bush wavered told them whether or not a rabbit was hiding in it, and the wood thrush's singing, _ee-oh-lay _meant that it had spotted a wolf pack somewhere nearby.

They had learned how the birdsong changed when enemies were lurking nearby, how wolves were more active at the night of the new moon rather than in the full. The stunted growth of a poppy or blossom was a warning that the air was thinner than usual.

And when suddenly everything became silent, when the birds abruptly stopped singing all at once and when the mountain herself seemed to be holding her breath, it meant that it was time to leave, to tuck your tail between your legs and run as fast as if the cliff you were standing on was cracking and collapsing, because that was essentially what it meant.

The passing weeks and moons rounded out their bodies and added muscle to their bones, making them bigger and taller with no longer the huge heads and large paws of toddling kits.

Len was frustrated that he still wasn't as tall as Zeb. Zeb was satisfied because he was growing and his claws were nearly sharp enough to be tested out.

The other lynxes commented on their growing with approval. Koko exclaimed with warmth at how tough they were getting, how they were shedding their soft kit fur and becoming more and more like their father.

Chesmu allowed them to watch him hunt, a priviledge because Chesmu, as a rule, didn't approve of kits. But he accepted Len and Zed probably because they were the _ogama's _sons.

Hinto saw them and once told them that they were building their shoulders and claws like the morphing of a skinny crescent into the full moon, a comment that made the two kits swell with pride.

Kateri still fussed over them like a mother should, grooming them despite Len's protests, feeding them milk until they were old enough to try meat, telling them stories about the Three Spirits and of the Soul of the World and cooing and calling them her 'precious little star' (Zeb), and her 'little sparrow' (Len).

There were other kits as well, some younger and newborn from other mothers, others were quite older and still some were about the same age.

Ut was one of the older ones, a dazzling figure of beauty and charming grace, her frame as liquid as water and just as calm. She had eyes that reminded Len of a hawk's, and in his mind he referred to her as 'the mountain blossom'. He may or may not have a small crush on her, a hint of love for her perfection and wit and daring personality, but no one knew except for his brother.

He and Zeb often teased and argued over about who should claim Ut as a mate when they became _danuwaris. _But it was still too early to think about that. Much too early to start worrying about their future. So when their future finally changed, when their dreams were shattered like bone on bone, it was a jarring jolt that almost broke them apart completely.

OoOooOoOOOOOOoOOoOoOoOooOOOOOOOOOOooo

In the moons that followed, they often bickered over what had first caused the change in their lives. After pondering it over, they finally agreed that it had started the day when Sayen had managed to drag herself over miles of cliffs and stony ridges, hind leg shattered into a million pieces like jumbled up sections of birch bark, impossible to put back together again and instantly rendered useless.

Sayen was accompanied by the other members of the hunting patrol, and they helped guide her over trenches and helped haul her over places where the rock was too steep and she had to jolt her broken leg to get over it safely. Her fur was battered, but not by the everyday wind that came swooping down like a hawk. And she was bruised, her broken limb almost swelled twice to its normal size as if it had been stung over and over again by a great hive of bees. She had to drag it along like a dead weight.

Kateri narrowed her eyes when the lynx approached and drew her two kits closer to her. Len only looked on curiously, unsure what to make of this scene.

He turned to look up at his mother. "Sayen will be alright, won't she?" he asked worriedly.

Zeb cuffed him lightly in a playful manner, and Len knew that it was his way of telling him not to worry his head off over nothing. "Of course, goat-brain!" he laughed in a carefree fashion. "Father said that the mountains have loads of herbs hidden in every corner. Right, Momma?"

Len instantly relaxed at the sound of his brother's laughter. If Zeb wasn't nervous, then he shouldn't be either. But when Kateri didn't respond back, when she continued to gaze at the wounded lynx through narrowed eyes, Len's heart quickened a pace and Zeb shut his mouth.

Sayen had dragged herself over to the leader, who was busy talking to another _danuwari _over the remains of a ram. When Ahote didn't even seem to notice her, when he didn't bother to give a glance in her direction or acknowledge her with a nod, Sayen dipped her head and whispered in a pained tone, "I seem to have had an accident at the hunt today, my _ogama. _Forgive me. I was careless."

Finally, at the sound of her voice, Ahote's ears shifted ever so slightly and he turned his head a fraction of an inch to give her a long, hard look. Len held his breath. What was happening? He half expected him to tell her, 'Be careful next time. Go to the den and get some rest.'

But he was mistaken.

Instead, Ahote turned away and meowed, "Don't waste my time. There is a clearing in the east, beyond the pines. Head there."

Sayen, without questioning or saying anything more, dipped her head again and turned, silently, back out of the camp. She dragged her battered body after her, the pelt going _sweep _over the stones like feathers brushing the dust.

Not one of the lynxes said anything. When the female lynx had dragged herself a great distance away and had disappeared into the swath of spindly trees, they continued to gossip and chat as if nothing had happened.

Len wasn't sure if he even knew what had happened. Quickly, he snuck a glance at his brother, and was surprised to see Zeb bearing an expression on his face that he had never seen before.

Kateri was saying, "You see, my darlings, that weaklings and no-brains are useless to us. They are nothing but a burden, dragging everyone down with them. Sayen was foolish and naive; she didn't see it coming until the entire boulder had practically rolled on top of her. But it is a relief to see that she is leaving."

Len had so many questions perching on the tip of his tongue like magpies. He almost began to speak, but allowed his brother to begin first. With his brow furrowed and his head tipped to one side, Zeb asked in as serious a tone as he could muster, "Momma, where is Sayen going? What's the clearing in the east that Father was talking about?"

Kateri drew a warm tongue over his head, and then another one between Len's ears, causing him to squeak indignantly. "A pack of wolves had moved there a few days ago. It will be a fitting end for that good-for-nothing weakling. If she isn't even bright enough to look after herself, then we don't want to have anything to do with her." When Zeb's ears pricked up at her words, her scathing tone became gentle again and she purred, "It's alright, my precious star. The clearing is a long way away from here. And the wolves won't dare attack us."

But Len knew exactly what Zeb was thinking. He knew that he was angry, yet he had carefully slipped on a frozen mask to make it seem that he was smiling. Len could see right through it.

Zeb was not angry. He was furious.

Smiling sweetly, he mewed, "Thanks, Momma", and then quickly scampered down the slope, following that well-worn path that snaked its way through towering cliffs, the one that they both knew all too well. Len followed after him, his legs running as fast as he could. He called out, "Hey! Wait for me, you dumb duck! You know I don't like it when you go off without me!"

Nothing answered him except for his echoes. Zeb continued on without a single glance back and seemed not to hear. Len, puffing out his chest and folding back his ears in annoyance, pushed forward as far as his little legs could take him, which wasn't far at all.

In fact, it took a while for him to arrive, huffing and puffing like a frog, to stop next to his brother. Zeb didn't say anything. He didn't even glance at him. Instead, he was gazing off into the distance.

Len knew this cliff like he knew the back of his paw. It was the same cliff that Ahote had taken them moons ago when they were still young and the sky was still that same, solid blue. It was the highest peak in the tallest mountain, and if you looked down at it, you'd feel as if you were flying at the top of the world. It still looked the same as it did the first time he saw it, with the silver band that was called a river and the patches of green and yellow.

Len blinked at Zeb questioningly. His brother had his gaze fixed at something in the distance, his yellow-green eyes unfocused and distant. The forever-moving wind touched down to ruffle his thick pelt like a flurry of leaves before moving on to stir Len's own.

Len could tell that he was still angry. The jaw was set in a grim line, the limbs were stiff, and those serious eyes had lost that playful spark.

It seemed to be eons before he spoke.

"Len. When you and I become strong enough, we'll leave the mountains together and find a new home."

Len, still as young and naive as ever, didn't make much sense out of those words. The mountain _was_ their home, and he wanted to believe that he would stay here for the rest of his life, sleeping in the same place and watching the same stars. The mountain was a part of him like a heart or a bone or an organ. Parting from it was like wrenching a tooth out of its socket.

Len blinked, not knowing what to reply, but instead gazed off in the same direction as his brother. The sun was setting, the evening was creeping in to dye the sky purple and orange and a fiery, blazing pink.

"But if we leave," he said, "then what will happen to the others? Father says that when we're old enough, we'll become _ogamas _and lead them."

"Yeah. That's what he said. But I'm sure they'll manage on their own."

Len could hardly believe what he was hearing. His brother was disobeying Ahote? Even the idea of it seemed to be a sin.

Yet, as the breeze ruffled his fur and he watched the sun dip lower and lower into the horizon, he felt someone calling for him far below the cliff, a million miles away from the mountains that was his home.

Freedom was the eagle, soaring weightlessly above the atmosphere like a dandelion seed. Freedom was the sound of the mountain singing, the sound of an elk's dying gasp as hunters brought it down, the sound of new eggs cracking in The Moon of New Birth, of hooves stampeding, rocks echoing, birds answering each other's cries.

Freedom was the feeling of being unrestrained and lightweight and happy and careless and free. The mountains sang of freedom, but the forests and miles and miles of grass below him echoed the same song. Boundless. Endless. A vast space of freedom.

_Yes, _Len thought. _I want to travel the whole world._

He thought of the she-lynx with the broken limb dragging herself to the east clearing were the wolves were, forcing herself to go there because Ahote had told her to. Even here, in the mountains where eagles veered freely in the skies and where the wild bison bellowed and were free to roam the meadows, the lynxes themselves were trapped down like caterpillars blind in their cocoons.

He turned to Zeb. "Don't leave without me, okay? Wait for me to become strong like you, and then we'll go out together."

Zeb chuckled a bit, but when he saw the serious look on his face, he calmed down and replied calmly, "Yes. I'll do that. I can't leave you alone anyways because then you'd go off and do something stupid. I'm kidding, I'm kidding," he laughed, when Len opened his mouth to make an indignant retort.

Len glared at his brother, tilting his head upward because Zeb was already a head taller than him.

"Promise?" he asked.

Zeb nuzzled him and drew him in closer. "Of course. Bet your life on it."


	23. Chapter 21-Void

"_At one time in the world there were woods that no one owned."_

_-Cormac McCarthy_

* * *

_**Note: Yes, I know this chapter is very long, but it has a lot of important info in it. I didn't want to split it up into smaller chapters because I figured that you wanted me to continue on with Stormpaw's story instead of Len's, so I didn't want to spend too many chapters on the lynxes. I hope you enjoy and have patience to read most, if not all of the chapter. ^^ Thank you!**_

Chapter 21-Void

Len had often wondered how he would die. Maybe while doing some heroic feat, like saving a kit from a dangling cliff or from bravely chasing after a bull moose. But he had no idea that he would find himself wandering aimlessly across the mountainside like a lone ghost, with nowhere to go and nowhere to be.

Len was completely and utterly lost.

He had wanted to sneak after a hunting patrol to try and see if he could catch something of his own, ignoring the fact that he was still one or two moons too young, imagining the look on Zeb's face when he came home carrying a full-grown moose after him.

Instead of doing that, however, he had trailed after the patrol for a good length away until they rounded the corner. After that, they had vanished as suddenly as if they had sprouted wings and flown. And Len found that he had no idea where he was.

To be honest, he was more annoyed than afraid. He must have been the first lynx in a million years to have gotten lost in his own home. He was expected to know the mountains like the back of his paw; Ahote had showed him every arch of the crags, every cliff, every pebble and tree and moss. So how in the name of the Three Spirits did he get lost?

Forcing himself to stand still, he closed his eyes and tipped his head back to drink in the air. Losing himself to the calls of nearby birds and the low drumming of the mountainside, he breathed in the scent and could name every one of them: the cold tang of frost that seared his nostrils like fire, the musky tang of bison that roamed far away. There was a brief whiff of wild honey and the sweetness of Black-Eyed Susans. Elderberries. Pine trees. Sap. The smoke-like wetness that promised oncoming rain.

And everywhere was the familiar dusty smell of gravel and mineral, pebble and ore. It put him at ease to know that he was still on the mountains, still lost but knowing that the others could easily be a few feet away, round the bend or just over the tops of the scraggly peaks.

To the north, the wind brought in an unfamiliar scent: trees, but more than just one. A forest? Eagerly, Len followed the trail and stopped, craning his neck to scan the cliff below him. Yes; there was a forest just over there, a green and brown stretch of feathery stuff just beyond his reach, close enough for him to make out the details of the rough bark.

The lynx picked his way down the rocky slope with the experience of a climber. He leaped from boulder to boulder as daintily as if his paws were lighter than air. He muttered a rhythm in his mind, steady and as slow-running as water: _step, step, slide. Step, step, slide._

There wasn't a single mistake. Not a scrape or a limb out of place. A single misstep could send him hurtling down the cliff to meet his doom a million miles underground.

It only took a few minutes. A few minutes more, and he was standing in front of those tall, spindly trees. _Oak, _he thought instantly. They were thin, miserable-looking things, no better than sticks with a few leaves hanging-just barely- on top. But there must have been hundreds of them in that single outcrop, and Len weaved his way through, hoping that the sickly undergrowth and oxygen-deprived vegetation could be home to some quail or voles that he could capture.

Something made him snap his head up instantly and his heart race a bit faster. _There_ was a low keening noise coming from nearby like an animal dying. No matter how hard he concentrated or swiveled his ears, Len couldn't make out what kind of creature that voice belonged to. It wasn't a deer; they made a high-pitched squeaking noise that bordered on queer and annoying. And foxes could scream.

But this sound was different sort of call. It was long and drawn out, pausing for a few moments as if taking in a breath and then continuing again. It sounded strange and almost sad, like a dirge sung by a grieving mother. He gazed off in the direction that it was coming from, ready to bolt in case the thing came blundering after him. But it didn't. It just kept on calling. Maybe a strange bird or a kind of exotic creature that Len didn't know about. But when it became more desperate, when the thing continued to caterwaul, it suddenly struck him that it could be crying.

Not waiting a single second more, Len dashed off in the direction. Trees and foliage flashed past him. He easily maneuver past the skinny trees, the voice drawing him nearer until it grew louder and louder. When his paws crunched on the fallen leaves, the song suddenly stopped as if it had been snuffed like a flame, jaws snapped shut.

The lynx halted, knowing for certain that it was somewhere near here, that it had been growing louder and louder before it stopped, that he was close—

A gasp. Something stirred. He looked down and was struck dumb.

The creature writhed on the ground, staring up at him with wide, golden eyes and opened its mouth to let out another small, weak wail. It was smaller than him, with fur that was the color of the snow caps, littered with leaf mold and twigs. As he watched in surprise, it squirmed again, trying to heave itself onto its paws before collapsing.

_It looks like me, _he thought. And indeed it did.

White whiskers. Pointed ears. Fur. Claws. Fangs. Pained eyes that were tortured with fear. In fact, the only thing that separated Len from it was its long, winding tail, thinner and wrong-colored pelt, and much smaller size. Another thought that struck him was that she looked odd lying there, reminding him of a patch of snow or of a broken-winged bird.

The creature was in pain, even though he couldn't see or smell any hint of blood. It was a female; he was sure of it. The distinct scent was wreathed around her like a honeysuckle vine. She didn't belong here; her scent also told him that she smelled nothing like the gray-faced boulders or larks, or of the never ending sky and craggy tops. Instead, her fur had a foreign musk to it that spoke of long-away places. He blinked. She was gasping, trying to get herself to her paws, trying to get away from him. Her fearful eyes were as wide as two suns.

He leaned closer, trying to ignore the stinging feeling in his chest when she shrank back from him as if he were an adder.

"Are you okay?" he asked kindly.

The thing's gaze darted around, no doubt looking for an escape route. Uncertainly, she opened her mouth and a flurry of unknown noises came out of it. They sounded like the chirpings of a sparrow, high-pitched. It occurred to him that she might be saying words, but the words that spewed out of her were foreign. She sounded like she was talking while gargling water. But like the singing of a stream, it sounded somehow pleasant.

Len saw that the trees were much too tall, the noises of the forest were much to loud, and that the creature, curled up on the rough, ragged mossy floor looked so small and vulnerable compared to everything else. Ignoring it when she flinched and hissed like steam, he drew closer and sniffed her, furrowing his brow. Her paws were bleeding and gored, evidence that she had been trekking for miles. Her ribs followed her breath as she inhaled and exhaled, rising and falling in a rhythmic movement. Her eyes, though wide and staring, looked tired and worn-out, as if she was just struggling to stay awake.

"Wait here," Len said, and then he darted off again. Following the hidden messages of the mountains, he scaled the jagged terrain and skirted ragweed bushes and frosted peaks until he could find the right trails and signs that pointed to what he was looking for. A clump of wild harebells were clinging onto a dirt mound. Their violet blossoms were wind-torn and frayed, but their stalks were still as strong as weeds. He yanked them free from the earth's hold and eagerly scampered back to the woods, to the waving pines and to the sickly and wounded creature that was curled up on the ground. Its flanks quivered. Eyes wide, she raised her head to blink at him.

Nudging the herbs toward her, he breathed gently, "Eat them. It'll give you energy." The thing, as though she knew what medicine was, slowly pricked up her ears and bent down to nose the stems. He was afraid that she would reject them, but thank the Three Spirits that she didn't. Folding her paws underneath her, she tucked in and began to chew, wincing at the bitter taste. He laughed at the expressions she made. "Yeah, it doesn't taste as good as real prey. But don't you worry, it'll get you back on your paws before you know it."

And then, because the creature continued eating and didn't seem to mind him at all, and because the silence of the forest was almost deafening, he scuffled his paws and looked up at the sky and continued, "I can tell that you've come from a long way away. You must be lost. These mountains are my home, but in a sense, I'm lost too. But who knows, maybe my group is just around the corner."

It even seemed to him that she was listening. Her ears were alert now, and it appeared that she was regaining her strength with every bite she took. It was like watching a wilting flower swell up again before his very eyes. In a few heartbeats, the herbs were gone and she was busy licking her sore paw pads. Len was relieved that she seemed to have lost her fear of him.

"Hold on," he told her. "I can find something to heal them. You'll be walking again soon enough." He turned and darted away much slower this time because he wouldn't be gone long, and if she had waited for him the first time then surely she would wait for him again?

But when he returned with a bundle of milkweeds, she was nowhere to be seen. She was gone. Vanished. The spot she was lying on was empty, but her strange scent of water and pollen remained. He sniffed it.

Len stood there awkwardly among the listening trees, trying not to let the disappointment show on his face. She had left. He would never see her again. But why had he helped her in the first place? Somehow, the heaving ribs and scared eyes reminded him of the broken-legged lynx whose name he could not now remember. The she-lynx who had been condemned by Ahote to die in the clearing where the wolves had been.

She was dead because she was too weak to survive the harshness of the mountains. She had been stupid enough to let a boulder tumble onto her leg, shattering it like a rock on ice. Weaklings deserved nothing other than death. The right thing for Len to have done, if he valued his pride as a lynx and as the ogama's son, was to have simply left the creature alone and let it die.

But he didn't. Something like shame burned the tips of his ears. If I were given a second chance, he thought, would I still do it?

The answer was as clear as day. The look on the thing's eyes were a mixture of pain, the same emotion that had been on the face of the broken lynx. Even if Len was given a third chance or a fourth, his answer would still be the same.

He was thinking weak thoughts. Shaking his head to clear it, he hurriedly padded away to put as much distance between he and the trees as possible.

The sun was setting by the time he finally made it home. Kateri gave him a disapproving glare and scolded him for getting lost, but then had wrapped her arms around him and asked him if he had been hurt anywhere. The others fawned over him as usual. He was given a juicy portion of wild lamb, the first piece from a massive carcass. Zeb left him alone during that time.

When they were alone, Zeb whirled around and asked, "Where have you been? Did you find anything?"

Len trusted him because he was his brother, because he understood him more than anyone else and because they had promised that they would leave together no matter what. He told him.

Zeb's eyes grew round. "What was it? Are you sure it wasn't a wolf pup or something?"

"Of course I'm sure, fleabrain. What do you think I am, blind?"

They finally agreed that it had been some kind of defected white fox-weasel-bird thing, and what else could it be?

In the next few weeks, the incident was forgotten as more important events replaced it. Len found himself thinking less and less about her terrified eyes with each passing day.

OoOOoOoOoOoOOoOOOoOoOOoOOoOoOZOooOoOO

The day had finally come. It was the most important day of his life.

Kateri had spent entire morning fussing over them and grooming their thick pelts. Len's fur was polished so much that it shone like a gem. Zeb joked around and asked who they were trying to impress, the squirrels?

Their fellow lynxes gave them serious advice and special tactics, and prayers were solemnly said over them. 'Good luck', they said, and wished them nothing but victory. Len wiggled with excitement. Butterflies were assaulting his stomach. When Ahote bounded up onto a raised mound, he and his brother wasted no time in scurrying after him.

Addressing the large crowd below them, Ahote called out in a booming voice, "The rising sun marks this day in which my two sons have finally outgrown their kithood and are old enough to begin their first hunt. May the Spirits grant them swift limbs, good eyesight, and determination to succeed."

Every one of his words sank into Len's bones and hummed in his heart. Eagerly, he watched the lynxes call out he and his brother's names. The clearing was filled with a happy and light mood. It was as if he was walking through a dream. Finally, finally, at last his day had come!

Wiggling impatiently, he tried to wait as his father said the last words and recited a chant that would give them strength. Finally, when Ahote growled, "...and with the last of these words, may be bid them good luck and good hunting." As the clearing exploded into cheers and roaring, Len and Zeb sprinted away down the stony path that they had walked since their birth. When the trail forked off into two different directions, Len grinned at him mischievously and proclaimed, "Just watch, Zeb! I'll take down the biggest moose you've ever seen!"

Zeb chuckled, "Just make sure you don't get lost again." With those parting words, they separated, each taking their own path. Len watched as his brother's form grew smaller and smaller until the grey background swallowed him up. Only then did he continue on his way.

The sun was bright and the sky was brighter. Birds sang everywhere but were nowhere to be seen.

He knew how important this first hunt was. He was supposed to go out on his own without any help and capture a mouse to present to Ahote. The first prey was always a mouse. If he succeeded, then he would prove himself worthy of being a _wari_. Len stopped at a familiar outcropping filled with grainy grass and tasted the air. The feeling of doing this gave him a thrill that stretched along his spine. There was the scent of poppies. Water nearby. Coyote, but it was stale, and the stretched of crushed and bent plants told him that a badger had recently been here.

Closing his eyes, he opened his ears and breathed deeply. Calm. Quiet. If he focused, he could become one with his surroundings. As though by luck, he caught the warm scent of rodent riding on the little eddies of wind. His eyes flit open. Ears pricked in eagerness, he followed it quickly. It took him past the familiar boundaries of the land.

There were landmarks that he could no longer recognize, and he knew that with every step he took he was traveling farther and farther away from the others. In some places the rocks were so sharp they caught his paws. Sometimes the ground thinned out almost to several inches wide and he had to flatten himself against the wall to keep from falling. There was a gap with the other ledge several paces out of his reach, but a large bound soon brought him over.

There it was. A scuffling in the grass. Squeaking, almost too high to hear. Len grinned and licked his lips before unsheathing his claws. Fleeting thoughts, of the pride in his parents, of his group, of the warmth of the air, evaporated as he focused on his target. The mouse scurried, parting the stalks lightly and making it waver. Len had been dreaming of this day when he would use his claws for the first time and catch his first prey.

Time slowed to a sluggish pace. Len flexed his claws, drove his hind legs into the earth, and sprang.

Several things happened at once. He was aware of his claws landing just short of his target. He saw the mouse zigzag away into a hole. Then there was a violent lurch and a deafening roar as if the rocks were splitting apart. And he realized with a tightening of his throat as the ground actually _was_ crumbling from the force of his fall, the fragile cliff unable to support him, and he had been so focused on the mouse that he hadn't noticed when the birds had stopped singing.

Air whooshed past him. The ground disappeared underneath him and he fell, down and down and down into a gaping black void.

The air whipped his whiskers.

_I'm going to die, _he thought. _I'm going to fall and the rocks will pierce through me like claws. Or I'll break every bone in my body. Or my heart will beat so fast it'll burst out of my chest._

He did none of those things. The next thing he knew, he was desperately scrabbling against a stony wall as he plummeted before crashing and rolling downhill. Pebbles and gravel rained down on him. He was being jarred roughly, his limbs were scraped and bruised, the world jumped up and down in front of his eyes as the stones clattered and ran. All around him were the sounds of rocks sliding, rocks falling, crashing, singing...

He didn't know how much time had passed. It could have been only a few seconds. With a pounding headache and a rapidly jumping heart, he groaned and slowly opened his eyes. Familiar yellow-green ones met his own. Worried. Panicked.

"Len? Len, can you hear me?" the face was saying. "Thank the Three Spirits, you're alive!"

Zeb.

Len winced from the sun that seemed all to bright and was aware of a dull throbbing, pains in his body.

"Come on, you have to get up," his brother was saying. "There's not a lot of blood. You'll be fine. Come on, up." Gently, as if he was trying to calm a kit. Len struggled to sit up and leaned on his shoulder. Together, they made their way back up the slope, scrabbling across the boulders that had managed to miraculously miss him by inches. He could have been crushed to death. A flash of a memory, of his father's face glaring down at him, made him shudder. All along the way, Zeb murmured softly, "It's okay, Len, it's okay-don't you cry now-hush, it's okay-"

Three mice dangled from his jaws-not one, but _three-_and Len couldn't stop thinking about them. Eventually, when they had managed to pull themselves onto a safe ledge, Zeb nosed the prey toward him. Len shrank back, his eyes widened in dismay, his heart skipped a few beats.

"Zeb," he said, furrowing his brow. "Stop. You caught them, you keep them."

"I've got three, so it's alright. You take two and I'll save the last one for myself." He grinned, but Len could see just how hard he was trying not to break down and wail. Water pricked the edges of his vision.

Zeb knew. Zeb always knew, and Len was aware of it too. He nudged the mice back toward his brother. "You don't have to do this for me, Zeb. I'll be fine."

His brother's smile faltered and then broke, replaced with a look of alarm and then anger.

"...Zeb?"

With a frown, Zeb slapped the two mice over to Len's paws, ignoring the excuses. When they met each other's gaze, his eyes were on fire. Hackles rose.

"What will they say when I come home with three mice in my jaws and none in yours?" he spat, his voice rising dangerously high, his eyes scathing. Len was rooted to the spot, unable to register what was going on. All he felt was shock.

Zeb continued, "What will our father say? Our mother? The rest of the group? And what will they do when they see the scrapes on your pelt?" He bared his teeth. "Don't you remember? _Sayen?" _

The broken-legged lynx. They both knew. Kateri's words rang in Len's ears. _'__You see, my darlings, that weaklings and no-brains are useless to us. They are nothing but a burden, dragging everyone down with them. Sayen was foolish and naive; she didn't see it coming until the entire boulder had practically rolled on top of her. But it is a relief to see that she is leaving.'_

If he came back with nothing to prove his worthiness, then he might as well just die. Zeb pressed him, calmer now with his eyes worried and sad. "Come on, brother," he breathed. "No one will know. Let's go." Len could see the nervousness in his eyes, the jump in his paws, urging him to get moving before anyone saw. Finally, hiding a shudder, he reached for the two mice and clamped his jaws gently around them. He nodded, and the two of them turned and began to head back. They pressed up against each other until their pelts were brushing. Len could feel his heart still running rapidly in his chest, and was sure that his brother could feel it to.

But it was fine. Everything was going to be alright. They were both going to become _waris _and no one would ever know what had happened.

Zeb suddenly stiffened as if he had been electrocuted. Len was jolted to a halt. He blinked in confusion. "Zeb?"

The fronds parted in front of them and another lynx stepped out, one with glossy fur and bored-looking eyes. Although they were half-closed, they looked stern.

"Ut," Len murmured in surprise. "Why are you here?"

Zeb snarled and crouched down, as if he was preparing to lunge. Len turned to him in alarm. Zeb never snarled at anyone, at least until today. The lynx was growling, "You followed us, didn't you?" All of the love he had for her disappeared like a puddle under the sun. Ut only blinked calmly, as if she couldn't see the fury radiating off of him. "You're breaking the rules, you know. You're disobeying the _ogama. _What do you think will happen if he finds out about this?"

Zeb spat angrily, "You can't tell him."

_Just watch me, _she seemed to say. Ut's eyes narrowed into two dangerous slits. Her voice was a monochrome, void of all emotion except for hostility. "I _can. _And I will. Unless you give the mice back to him, Len, then I'll turn tail right now and tell the _ogama _what you've done."

Ut. Beautiful, dazzling Ut. She was glaring at them as if they were dirt caught at the bottom of her paw. It made him uneasy.

Len said nervously, "It's alright, Zeb, you caught them yourself. It's not fair if-"

He shrank back as the lynx rounded on him with quivering jaws and a wide-open glare. "It's not alright!" he screeched. The angry voice bounced off the rock walls. "You'll die, Len! Our father will-our father will..."

Len stared back at the furious face, his chest heaving and unsure of what to reply with. The sudden weight of the whole thing suddenly came crashing on top of him and he could hardly breathe. He felt like he was suffocating.

Ahote-his father-would send him to the clearing to die like Sayen had, slayed by the wolves because he was too weak to take care of himself. His father. His own father.

Ut was looking on quietly as if she was watching the sun rise instead of two lynxes yelling at each other. She tipped her head to one side and raised an eyebrow. "Well?"

Len knew what he had to do. If Ahote realized that Zeb was helping him, then the both of them would be in danger. In one swift motion, he flung the two mice toward his brother and galloped away. His aching muscles shrieked at him, his brother shrieked at him, the birds and the rocks and the mountains were all jeering and shrieking and writhing. The world suddenly seemed to be fighting against him and pulling him down, but still, he urged himself onward. His breath came in small gasps. His eyes were round and unblinking. And of all the lynxes he knew, Ut had...Ut had. She was the one he had loved. The one that he and Zeb had been arguing over who got to claim her as a mate. But now she was gone to him forever.

He saw the familiar clearing looming up in front of him. He was aware of Zeb calling his name behind him, just a few yards away. Without hesitating, he flung himself over and landed, wincing, in the middle of the clearing in front of all the lynxes who had been waiting of his return. Kateri padded toward him hopefully, her eyes shining. "My little sparrow," she purred. "The first hunt is always difficult, but I had no doubt that you could do it." She was smiling and walking toward him to give him a lick, but he shrank back with his sides still heaving.

Her voice came back with a questioning tone. "Len? Are you alright?" But then she abruptly broke off and narrowed her eyes into slits, and the whole clearing fell into a silent hush.

"Len?"

He looked away and scuffled his paws, aware of all the silence pressing against him.

"Len? Have you caught anything?" He was surprised at how her voice could turn stern and cold in just a matter of seconds. When she didn't say anything else, he hesitantly looked at her. She was gazing at him carefully, her eyes cold. The sun behind her cast shadows across her muzzle, and for a few seconds, something flared up in her yellow orbs before she turned away without another word. There was a scuffling from outside. Someone was calling his name.

"Len!" Zeb panted and rocketed into the clearing. He looked first at Len, then at Kateri, before he flattened his ears and shrank back. "It...it's not what it looks like," he whispered, knowing full well what the others were thinking. Len with bruises and scrapes covering his thick pelt. The three mice dangling from Zeb's jaws. A murmur stirred through the crowd of watching lynxes. Len suddenly felt like a mouse surrounded by hawks. His blood thundered in his ears. Nobody spoke, although he could sense the questions and the remarks buzzing through the air like a hive full of bees: _It was Zeb who fulfilled his first task, not Len. It was Zeb who won. Not Len. _He winced. Those words stung exactly as if they had been said out loud.

He had been waiting for moons for this one day to arrive, and now that it had, all he wanted to do next was to wish that he was a kit again nestled by his mother's side. He had _failed. _He was weak. He couldn't catch a single mouse when his brother could catch three. After what seemed like eons of stifled silence, a shadow emerged from the stone den. His father. He was surprised to see that he now thought of him as 'Ahote' instead of 'father'.

Ahote wore an expression of barely suppressed anger. His mouth was set in a grim line. The eyes were narrowed, steely, and calculating. They flashed amber. The hairs along his back quivered with each step, the claws sliding in and out. No one needed to say anything. The evidence was right in front of them. Len was sure that his heart would stop right then and there. Even Zeb, standing beside him with his eyes downcast, couldn't help him now.

"Len," the thundering voice growled. "Explain yourself."

Len flinched at every word. "I...I'm sorry," wincing at how he sounded so much like Sayen.

"You know what this means." The words were soft yet brittle like a storm cloud crackling with lightning and just waiting to let it loose. "You have failed to complete your first assignment."

"I know."

When Ahote shifted his gaze to Zeb, the lightning brightened up a bit like the clouds parting. "You have done well, Zeb. Not one mouse, but three. I have no doubt that you will become the new _ogama _of my group."

Zeb muttered something that sounded like _thank you, Father. _Len was tense. He stared down at his paws when Ahote turned on him again. He could feel those solid eyes burning into his head, but he didn't dare look. He waited, trembling a little, to hear what his father would say next. _Weakling. Pathetic excuse for a lynx. You are not my son. I order you to go to the east clearing and to never come back._

He was supposed to become a _danuwari _and set out with his brother to explore the wide, wide earth. He had promised him, didn't he? But it didn't matter now.

In this world, he realized, there were no dreams. Miracles didn't exist. The world was just a broken-winged bird lying in the snow, alone, all alone.

"Father," a familiar voice said, and Len jerked his head up in surprise. Everyone did the same thing: snapped their heads up, eyes widening in shock, murmurs and alarmed whispers running through the watching and waiting crowd.

Zen was standing up as straight as a beam, his shoulders tense and his eyes bearing a grim emotion. His voice didn't tremble but was just as strong as the _ogama's. _To Len, it sounded like the singing of an eagle. "Father, I request that you give Len one more chance. Trust me, I know he can do it. He's not a weakling. He's my brother."

The crowd trembled once and fell silent again, although they were all craning their necks in eagerness. Kateri looked agitated; nowhere in the history of the lynxes had anyone ever dared to challenge the _ogama. _

Len was silently cursing his brother and pleading to the gods at the same time. _No! Zeb, are you throwing your life away for me? Spirits, if you're still here, please save my brother. _

The leader's eyes were slits. He seemed to be thinking, but it was like a viper searching out its prey, an eagle calculating its victim's weak point, the silence right before a snowstorm struck. Finally, he opened his mouth and said, "This has been a good day for me, my son. Not only have you passed your first test, but it also seems that you have enough courage to defy me. Very well." He nodded, a brisk, curt motion. "Len can stay."

He could hardly believe his ears. Had he heard wrong? But when he noticed the shocked silence of the crowd and the horrified face of his mother, he knew what Ahote had said was true. He bounded up and exclaimed happily, "Thank you! Thanks so much! I promise I won't let you down again."

"See that you don't." That was all the leader said before he stalked away. What did it matter that Ahote no longer thought of him as a son and Kateri now despised him? He was still alive. By some stroke of luck, he had managed to live. Now Zeb's promise wouldn't be broken. He was aware beyond his jumbled up fog of dazedly relieved thoughts that Zeb was covering him in licks.

"I thought for certain that you would die today," he was saying, voice choked with relief. "I almost lost you. Just hang in there for a while now, Len, and we'll make it out together. We'll both become _danuwaris _some day."

And although Ut still remained as pretty and dazzling as before, Len no longer thought of her as 'the mountain blossom' and Zeb never again cast her longing glances. Len wasn't sure when he had started referring to his father as 'the _ogama' _instead of 'Ahote'. Kateri no longer called him her 'little sparrow' but Zeb still remained her precious little star. Len was no longer the prized prince, the fawned-over kit, the next-in-line to be leader. In the eyes of the others, he was and forever will be nothing but a weakling, spared because his brother was generous enough to risk his life for him.

And Len had no idea that the promise his brother had given him of faraway lands and adventures away from the mountains would eventually be broken like a shattering of bone on rock.

OooOooOooOoOooOooOoOOOOooOOoOoOoOooOoooO

Chogan. The name flitted through his mind like a butterfly forever out of his reach. It was Chogan now. He was mutely aware of the others cheerfully calling out his brother's new _danuwari _name, but he turned his brain over to other distant thoughts. Zeb, when he was still only a _wari _like him the evening before, told him that he didn't have to come to the naming ceremony, that he would just tell Kateri that Len was out hunting. But Len insisted on going. Because they were brothers. Because they had once, so long ago, told each other that they would become _danuwaris _together and if he couldn't keep that promise, then he could at least cheer for Zeb when the ceremony came.

Suddenly, the sight of his parents looking so happy next to Chogan, of Chogan's chest swelling of pride, of the ringing calls and cries of delight and celebration from the other lynxes seemed too much to bear, and Len, knowing that he was lost in the sea of lynxes and that Chogan wouldn't be able to spot him anyway, turned and fled down the slope, following the stony path that had been worn smooth from countless centuries of other lynxes before him. His vision danced and was blurry but he didn't have to look where he was going. He had memorized these trails, these pawprints, the pebbles and cliffs and he could read the very heart of the mountain just like how Ahote used to teach him before that fateful day when he had caught no mice and Zeb had caught three.

He didn't care where he was going. All he wanted was to get away from the sound of the cheers, of the disgustingly happy looks on Ahote and Kateri's faces. He could have walked right off the cliff if he wanted to, but a strange and tangy smell stopped him in his tracks. He turned to look.

There was a weird, unknown creature seated on a rock just a little way in front of him. He had stopped because this creature reminded him of the day, so many years ago, when he had found the golden-eyed white she-thing in the forest. He had forgotten, but now a spark of the memory flowed through his mind.

This one sitting on the rock looked almost exactly the same except the fur was longer and a mix of ginger and black and brown and white, like fallen leaves dappled with sunlight and shadow. The eyes were half-closed and almost lazy, this time a pale yellow like yolk inside of a strong golden color. And it was a male.

Len stopped, everything else forgotten. The half-closed eyes studied him with interest, looking almost friendly. It seemed to smile before slipping from the rock and padding closer to him without a shred of fear. It opened its mouth and a twittering, bird-like noise came out of it like hail pinging on stones. Len tipped his head to one side.

The thing, as though understanding, opened its mouth again and pointed its tufted tail at its chest. A word came out of its tongue, something that sounded vaguely like a name. Len blinked, and thinking that he had nothing to lose, pointed his claw at his own self and meowed, "Len."

ooOoOoOoooOooOooOoooOOOoOooOoOOOOOoOoooooOooOoOOOOOoO

The Prince was always hanging around at the same place every day and Len always found time to slip away and join it. The two of them then made their way over to the forest, taking their time because they had all the time in the world. Len admired the way the Prince's fur caught the sun, at how the golden and brown and black hues could blend together so perfectly and at how the yellow eyes were always half-closed, calm, and friendly.

The Prince taught him words. The strange bird-like language he spoke gradually evened out day by day until Len could make out almost everything it said.

One day in the forest, the Prince told him that there were other beings like him, that they had traveled from far away and had stopped in the mountains to make it their home. It asked Len if it could bring its friends with it to visit the lynxes some time, and a cold, uncertain feeling settled onto Len's shoulders.

"I don't know," the lynx mumbled. "How many of you are there?" He wanted to see the white-furred, golden-eyed creature again.

The Prince flicked his tufted tail and reached up to slowly bat at a fly. The white whiskers twitched. The eyes always seemed to be laughing. "Oh, not much. Only five or ten." The voice was dry and reminded him of dried out insect husks. But the yellow eyes were bright and showed an intelligence, as if the Prince always knew everything there was to know. "It's funny how we've known each other for moons and yet, I still don't know the names of everyone in your group. It would certainly be nice to have a visit, don't you think? I would like to make friends with yours. Do you think they'll even lend me some of their territory?"

Barging in out of nowhere and asking for land? That was a lot to ask from Ahote. Len said, "Um."

The Prince's voice was always gentle and soft-spoken. It soothed Len because it meant an escape from the scathing tones of Kateri, the hostile growl of Ahote, and the never ending whispers from the others.

The cat continued cheerfully, "How come you're so cautious when you speak of your denmates, Len? It almost seems that you fear them." The lynx was afraid that the cat would continue to pry and he would have to give in, but luckily, the Prince drew a paw over one ear and bounded away. There were never any goodbyes because they would always meet up again the next day.

Len enjoyed the times they spent together. The Prince never judged him or called him weak or stupid. _He knows me, _he thought. _He understands me and respects my wishes. He's one of the only two I know who treats me like an equal._

OoOoOOOOoOoOoOoOoOooOoooOOooOOOooooO

Chogan was like a grizzly bear protecting its cubs, like an eagle surging after a ram, like a bull moose charging at its attacker. And for the one last time, he was protecting his brother yet again. He was standing with his back against Len, spine rigid and claws as sharp as talons, facing their enemy.

Len's fur was bristling. He swallowed, his throat dry as he watched Chogan bravely facing up against the row of cats who spat and hissed threateningly at them.

Without taking his eyes away from the felines, Chogan growled, "Len. You have to escape." The words were dangerously soft. Len's blood ran cold, he was sure that this would be the day they died. Forcing himself to stop quivering, Len glared at the back of his brother's head and replied, "I'm not leaving you behind."

A strike of lightning lit up the trees and thunder echoed his words as Chogan began to yell, his voice rising with desperation and cracking with fear. _"For the Spirits' sake, Len, just run before they kill you!"_

At the bright flash of the lightning that tore up the clouds and seemed to cut the sky in half, the cats yowled and sprang with their claws in front of them. "Chogan!"

The lynx and the cats battled with each other. Although Chogan had strength and size on his side, there were as many cats as there were trees in the woods, and Len saw, terrified, at how the cats seemed to stand up like a wave to take his brother down.

A snarl broke free from his throat. With new power, he stood up on his hind legs and lunged, hissing with his eyes wide with fright and anger. The cats cringed and stepped back, but when they realized that two lynxes couldn't stop them, they darted forward with smug looks, knowing that the battle was won before it had ever started.

The dark clouds let loose a downpour that streamed down his whiskers and matted his fur. Whirling around, Chogan pushed Len roughly and spat, "Get moving!" It was too dark to see but another strike of lightning lit up Chogan's features and Len could see just how frightened he was.

This was a fight for their lives. These cats were out for blood.

The two of them fled, adrenaline racing through their limbs and their paws thudding beneath them. The cats immediately gave chase. They slipped on the mud and were blinded by the heavy pounding of the rain, but the trail was wide enough so that none of them fell to the cavernous depths below them.

"Chogan!" Len panted. "Are-are we...?"

Chogan pushed him again, urging him to run faster, faster, and faster still. They could barely hear each other over the roaring of the rain, the whipping of the wind and the snarling of the whole fleet of angry cats behind them.

Something moved out of the corner of Len's eyes.

Ahote broke through the snapping trees with a yowl. Countless other lynxes streamed around behind him, the whole group! There were flashes of white teeth and glints of claws, and then the bright scarlet that flowed through the rocks like a river.

Len huddled up closely against his brother, his ears flat against his head. "There's too many of them! Chogan, we can't win!"

"I know, I know!" Chogan bared his teeth and swiped a blow against a ginger cat that sent the thing flying off the cliff. More were emerging as if out of nowhere.

The fighting and the blood and the screaming, all combined with the scared look on his brother's face, made Len desperate and more alarmed than ever. The thunder rumbled above them as if the Three Spirits were having a war of their own.

There was a blooming of white thunder, a flash. Another rumble from above. The rain poured down as if the clouds were throwing the entire river on top of them.

But Chogan's face softened again as though they were back in the nursery. Len blinked at him with wide eyes, blinking back tears that threatened to consume him. Chogan was hurt, he saw the blood and the scratches marring his brother's face, his brother was covered with the blood that was not the cats', nothing else in the world mattered except for Chogan and the cuts and the blood-

"Len," Chogan meowed quietly. "Remember the promise we made? That we would journey out into the world together and leave the mountains and never come back?"

Why on earth was he talking about at a time like this? Len nodded firmly, trying to act brave and ignoring the angry screeching all around him, trying and failing to ignore the blood that welled up from his brother's scratches.

Chogan smiled. "We couldn't become _danuwaris _together. I couldn't keep my word on it. And I'm afraid that I can't keep my last promise to you. I'm terrible at these things, you know?"

Len's expression hardened. "What are you saying?"

Silently, Chogan pressed his nose against his and held him close. Len could feel the wetness of his fur and the pounding in the other lynx's chest that was the heart. "I'm sorry," Chogan meowed. "I couldn't keep any of the promises I made to you. You'll have to leave the mountains without me."

Len's eyes stilled and then widened. He glared at the other lynx and pushed him away, but he was not angry. Len was furious, furious because Chogan had risked his life for him so many times, once when he had failed his first test and now when he was defending him against the hoard of angry wild cats. He was furious, but when Chogan grinned at him with a kind look that seemed to say _Just leave it all to me_, when Chogan grinned against an inky black sky that shot out lightning and against a cliff that was filled with fighting cats and lynxes and so much red, Len's anger evaporated like mist and he was crying now, the rain pelting his face and drowning out the tears.

Chogan was too stubborn enough to let Ahote and the others fight. Instead, he had to fight with them, because he wasn't just fighting for himself now, because he had a brother to protect.

"Run, Len!"

Len ran because Chogan was putting his life on the line for him yet again, because there was nothing else Len could do but run and live and fulfill his dream of leaving the mountains. Behind him, through his tears, he heard Chogan call after him one last time above the riot. "Don't slow down for me. Just keep on running! Don't look back!"

Len ran and ran and ran. Onward through the heavy rain because his brother wanted him to live and to not die in a fight like this one. He let his paws do the running for him in the darkness, but he knew that they were taking him directly to the forest.

The Prince was waiting for him there. He was flanked with a fleet of other cats. The golden and white patches on his chest seemed to have vanished so that he looked like a patch of shadow. Len stopped, panting.

The Prince took his time, as usual. There was no rush. The Prince had all the time in the world because the cats were winning against the lynxes and the mountain range would soon be his.

He spoke. "Do you know why I am doing this, Len?"

Because you wanted the territory and I didn't let you have it, Len thought but didn't say. Because you don't care about anything but power and you need a home for your own group. Because the lynxes were in the way.

The Prince was gazing at him through the pelting rain, and his pale yellow eyes seemed to glow like two moons.

The cats had won, and in the morning, Len knew, many of his own kind would be lying dead on the cliffs. Chogan would be one of them. Len was too weak to do anything about it, and the only thing that had kept him from dying was because Chogan had offered his own life to the the cats instead of Len's.

The rain fell harder.

ooOoOoOooOoOoOoOOoOOoOOoooOOooOoOooOooOOooOOOooOooOOOOOo

The story was finished. Len had spoken in near whispers so as to not disturb the others. Nothing stirred. The den was as silent and as dark as ever. Stormpaw lay on the moss, her eyes firmly shut, looking almost peaceful in the moonlight that melted from the opening.

Len wondered how someone like Chogan could be so selfless and devoted. He wondered if the Prince and his companions were still living in the mountains that were once the home of generations of ancient lynxes, but instead of hatred, Len felt only a lingering sadness inside.

He gazed at Stormpaw's still body and noticed, for the first time, that her breath came faster than usual, that her ears swiveled and her eyes moved underneath her eyelids, and then he wondered, with a sharp stab of surprise, at just how long she had been listening.


	24. Chapter 22-You Must Be Crazy

CHAPTER 22-You Must Be Crazy

She was screaming at him, yowling for all she was worth as though the voice no longer belonged to her, she was yelling his name and leaping up and backing him away from the inside of the den until they were standing in the middle of the moonlit clearing.

She was angry. The fury consumed her until she was nothing but rage. Len could hardly believe what he was hearing.

"_Len! _You don't deserve to be treated like dirt, like you're less than that, you're-"

The anger in her voice was overwhelming. To the lynx, the noise was like a roaring of thunder although no lightning lit up the sky. He was rooted to the spot, unable to move, because standing before him was a furious cat whose voice was like thunder. His eyes were wide with alarm. He didn't know what to do. Stormpaw's eyes were as green as grass, and as she spat with a face contorted with anger, those eyes gleamed and suddenly became brighter, two orbs which bloomed in vivid shades of green.

He found himself lost in their depths, unable to speak. Those wild, scathing eyes held some kind of power in them, a strange sensation he had never felt before, something that made his fur prickle and a stab of fear shoot through him. In those few seconds when the green eyes had transformed, the small, wounded cat suddenly seemed as ferocious as a bear. Even her own body radiated an aura of dangerous strength, and the sound of her booming voice and those frightening eyes were all too overwhelming. The lynx was afraid that she might even attack him.

Then the pulsing glow in those green eyes died down again into their normal color and she seemed to grow smaller. He saw that she was not a bear or a moose or a wild beast, she was an injured apprentice with a bleeding cut running along her flank. She was still furious and still spitting, but at least he could feel the pounding of his heart die down again.

_What was that? _he wondered. _Her eyes. They-they changed. All of a sudden. _

He rushed forward and wrapped her around him, supporting her weight when she began to stagger. The jagged wound on her shoulder began to open, the blood flowing freely down onto the snow. "Calm down, Stormpaw," he murmured soothingly, worried because she was hysterical. The shock from before still made his fur bristle, but the she-cat's eyes had stopped pulsing and glowing and was now back in their normal, green-as-grass hue.

It was hard to hear her because her face was pressed against his chest, but her anger made her frame tremble and he could feel the quivering in her bones.

"It's not fair, Len! It's not fair, it's not-"

She was saying it over and over again, but Len didn't have time to think. He couldn't pause and process what she was saying because he saw that she was scared and hurt and probably crazy with fever and he couldn't leave her side. All the shouting had woken up the whole camp, and cats were rushing out and surrounding him and asking what was wrong.

Dewstep and Ember surged out of the medicine den. Dewstep's fur, though matted with sleep, was bristling like quills. He was still groggy from being woken up but had enough sense to see the lynx and Stormpaw huddled in front of him.

The amber eyes widened. "What happened?" he demanded, in a tone that was mixed with fear and worry.

The small apprentice had stopped trembling, although she breathed heavily and her eyes were wide and unblinking. Len assured the ruffled warriors, "She is fine. It must have been a nightmare."

Ember hesitantly padded forward. She said gently, "Stormpaw? You're not fit enough to be moving around like this. Come on, I'll help you back into the medicine den." To everyone's relief, the cat only hesitated for a moment before nodding carefully. The fit had passed. She was exhausted. As gently as he could, Dewstep grasped her scruff in his mouth and heaved her away. Len watched as the they disappeared into the darkness of the den.

That little cat had possessed so much rage in that five minutes. She was angry for him. _You don't deserve to be treated like dirt, _she had said. _It's not fair, it's not-_

Again, Chogan's face hovered in his vision and he winced, automatically taking a few steps back. She was so much like Chogan. Len never bothered to talk back to his leaders, he just bore his sufferings and burdens on his back silently and in the corner. But Stormpaw had opened her jaws and screamed out his frustration to the world for him, because she knew what he was feeling and she was angry for everything life gave to him-

Once more, he was reminded of that raining night on the mountains when it was too dark to see, and suddenly the lightning had lit up Chogan's battered face in that one instant, and he remembered the smile of his brother and the words he had said. He remembered how Chogan had risked his life for him one too many times. The same spirit and strength had been reflected in the tortoiseshell cat's brightly lit gaze for a few seconds before the glow died down into a pale green. And the feeling that she gave off, the feeling that struck fear into his heart when he gazed at her...and the strength in her screech, the fury in her face. A remarkable power. An otherworldly power.

_Just what is she? _he thought.

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**Stormpaw's POV**

I curled up onto the moss that was soaked with dried blood, too tired and drained to react to the fussing the others gave me. My head was stuffy. My joints creaked. I was about to fall apart. It was as if all the bottled up things inside me had suddenly flown out and had left me behind in an empty shell.

"The poultice on your gashes fell off," Jayfeather scolded, still groggy from being woken up so suddenly. "If you move again I'll have to tie you down to your nest."

_You shouldn't be threatening a sick cat, _I thought, but was too exhausted to dwell on it. My thoughts swam through murky water.

A fox appeared in front of me. "Stormpaw?" she asked. Her voice was gentle. "Can you tell us what happened? Did Len do anything to you?" She was silenced when Dewstep murmured, "Leave her be, Ember. We can ask her again when she's well enough."

I closed my eyes and kept them shut. Their conversation died away into low, wispy murmurs. But I couldn't sleep yet. Everything that Len had told me galloped through my mind. _Chogan, Ahote, Kateri, the Prince..._

Not for the first time, I found myself being reminded of the taunts and jeers back at school, the idiotic nicknames, the stares, the shaking of heads and smug grins. _"Monster...beast!"_ and I knew, I understood, and the anger crackled underneath my pelt but left when I slowly breathed out through my nose.

I flexed my claws against the soft, crusted moss. If only I could get my claws on that stupid lynx Ahote, I'd make him pay-but I wasn't strong enough to beat him. I wasn't even strong enough to beat WindClan. The scene flashed through my mind and I became angry once again. The fury quickly ebbed away on the tide and left me broken and empty and feeling a bit sad.

I hated feeling helpless. Len didn't deserve this kind of life, shunned by his own kind. But what could I do?

In a flash, my mind was working again, grinding gears and filing paperwork while buzzers flashed on and off. Of course. My brain was already beginning to come up with a plan. How far was it to the mountains? Len said that it had taken months to get from there to the Lake...

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"I, Bramblestar, leader of ThunderClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on this apprentice. She has trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code and I commend her to you as a warrior in her turn. Wolfpaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your life?"

"I do."

"Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior name. Wolfpaw, from this moment you will be known as Wolfsong. StarClan honors your strength and intelligence, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ThunderClan."

"Wolfsong! Wolfsong! Wolfsong!" The Clan sang out her name, but she heard her sister call it out the loudest. Silverpaw and Featherpaw were waiting for her next to the nettle patch when she descended down from the Highrock, her head held high and her shoulders rigid.

Silverpaw immediately leaped up and wrapped her in nuzzles and purrs, while Featherpaw's green eyes glittered as she gave the new warrior a nod.

"It seemed that this day would never come," Wolfsong purred, running a tongue over her sister's ear.

"Just wait, Wolfpa-Wolfsong! Someday I'll become a warrior even greater than you! Maybe even a leader!" Silverpaw said.

Wolfsong smiled and told her that she had no doubt that she would succeed. It was still hard to believe that Bramblestar had made her a warrior when she was still a half moon away from completing her training, but he must have seen the skill and strength she possessed in her supple limbs. And with the threat of WindClan looming so near, it would make sense to appoint as many new warriors as possible.

_But it will be lonely in the warriors den, _she thought. _I'll have to spend the night without Silverpaw and the others from now_ on. She tried to imagine sleeping without the soft whooshing of Silverpaw's breath in her ear like a gale, the light snoring of Scorchpaw, Stormpaw's ever present sleep-mutterings, and the scuffling of Featherpaw as she tried to get comfortable in her nest. And Wolfsong found that she could not. The habits and murmurings of the other apprentices had become a part of her life like the sun and the air and it was impossible for her to imagine herself without them.

Featherpaw nudged her with her tail and pointed toward the medicine den. The opening was dark, but now and again something would scuffle nearby. Wolfsong glanced at Featherpaw. "You want to visit Stormpaw and Scorchpaw?" When the apprentice nodded, Wolfpaw gave her a small smile, hoping that she would hide her secret from Featherpaw's piercing hawk-like gaze.

"Why don't you and Silverpaw go on without me. I have to ask the deputy about my new duties." Silverpaw agreed without a second thought and dragged Featherpaw toward the den. But Wolfsong noticed, right before they left, that Featherpaw had given her a questioning glance and even without words, she could tell that the apprentice was asking her what secret she had to hide.

Wolfsong watched them uncertainly as they slipped into the den before allowing her gaze to watch over the lynxes. They were lounging about near their makeshift den, doing nothing in particular. But the big, huge able-bodied male that was their _ogama _made her nervous. His gaze passed through her before he looked away with a bored expression.

_I can't believe that Stormpaw is asking me to do this, _she thought, and she wondered back to the other night when they were questioning about Len's sudden disappearance. Stormpaw had grunted in answer to every question she was asked and promptly said that her leg was aching, so could they all leave her in peace and go away?

But she had asked Wolfsong to stay and quietly, Stormpaw whispered it into her ear. Wolfsong stood there, shocked at the plan, and wondering if the WindClan cats had somehow damaged her head in some way. But Stormpaw had said it with such ferocity, with such certainty, that she found herself unable to say 'no'.

_I can't believe her, _she thought again as she stood in the clearing, unaware when her Clanmates cast her puzzled looks. She hardened her gaze and looked on toward the medicine den where Stormpaw and Scorchpaw were resting. So far, she was certain, that Stormpaw had told no one but her, but would go on to tell the other apprentices.

Except for Scorchpaw. They had agreed that Scorchpaw had to stay in the Clan because he was on the verge of life and death. They had to leave him behind.

Wolfsong remembered that day in leaf-fall when the tortoiseshell she-cat was found unconscious on the edge of their territory, and she remembered the apprentice ceremony and the first patrol they went on together. She never wondered where Stormpaw had come from-it was normal for the Clan to accept loners, and she was a loner herself. But now, she found herself thinking. Stormpaw had a head-strong personality, and ever since she had arrived, she had brought them tumbling out of the sky. She was the sun; she was bright, she was fiery, her tongue could scorch pelts. She had a determination inside her that boiled like fire.

Before the loner came to the camp and into her life, Wolfsong had been considered the unofficial "leader" of the apprentices, the oldest one in the group and the one with the most level head. Even when she was young, she never let anger get the best of her and always had the safety of her sister in mind. She was the one who could run the fastest, who passed with flying colors, who caught the most prey and she had heard many times the word 'deputy' whispered behind her back. She used to be in control. The others respected her, marveling her strength and courage, and the other apprentices obeyed her decisions because they knew that they could trust her, that she deserved their trust.

And now, with the coming of Stormpaw, she felt herself standing on uneven ground. She no longer knew what was happening around the corner; she could no longer predict the future and guarantee the safety of her friends. _She _is _like a storm, _Wolfsong thought. _Unpredictable and wild, going here and there, carrying stories in her wings. _And Wolfsong decided that she could trust Stormpaw with the safety of her friends and the Clan, because Stormpaw seemed so certain of herself that it was hard not to believe her.

Wolfsong thought, _I wonder what will happen next. _

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_You never know what will happen next, _Featherpaw thought as she patiently listened to a stream of Silverpaw's babbling and watched the rising and falling of Scorchpaw's still form. _Life is like a river. It stretches out in one moment and twists like a snake in the next. It carries you around the bend where you don't know what's coming. Sometimes the waters are calm and in others it's choppy, and once in a lifetime, the river rises and gushes and turns into a waterfall._

_I wonder where Stormpaw's waterfall will take me next, _she wondered. She suddenly noticed that Stormpaw was asking her a question and had been repeating it for some time now, so she nodded cheerfully and twisted her tail to sign out her reply.

"Scorchpaw's going along fine," Briarlight mewed lightly, stepping forward to drape a cobweb over Scorchpaw's sleeping body. Silverpaw complained, "He's been asleep for _days _now. I think he's turning into a hibernating chipmunk."

Briarlight laughed softly. "Oh, he'll wake up alright, probably in the next day or two. His wounds were severe, but they're starting to heal." She broke off, and a curious expression entered her face. "But Stormpaw's gashes are disappearing at a faster pace. It's strange, but it's a relief to know that you'll soon be on your paws and training again." Stormpaw grinned in reply, but Featherpaw, with an amused chuckle, knew that the cat was silently wishing that she could spend a few more days in the nest so that she wouldn't have to continue her apprentice duties.

At that moment, when Briarlight had turned to sort out some herbs, Stormpaw's grin vanished and was replaced with a serious look. She beckoned toward Featherpaw and Silverpaw, and Featherpaw, with a trill in her heart, leaned forward so that Stormpaw could whisper in her ear.

For a second, she forgot to breathe. Her green eyes widened, and her tail bristled with anticipation. The mountains were large and looming, and they spoke of sights that she still had yet to see. She wouldn't miss this camp at all or her mother's daily, annoying fussing.

While she listened, Featherpaw remembered the day when Stormpaw appeared in her life. The loner had given her kindness when others hadn't, and acted as if she were a normal Clanmate instead of some poor, mute sickly thing. Stormpaw had given her a life to live.

Stormpaw was a pebble that had plummeted into Featherpaw's river, sending ripples and water to cascade and flood over the banks, making the surface choppy for the first time in her life. They had rode out the waves together, she had given her hope in the future.

When Stormpaw asked her if she would say yes, Featherpaw quickly nodded and gave her a rare smile that beamed. Of course she would go. She would follow Stormpaw to the edges of the world. Because Stormpaw had offered to be her friend when the others simply turned away. Before Stormpaw came, Featherpaw had only been an outcast, that quiet, lonely queer one in the corner who was never hated but was never loved either. Stormpaw was her voice now, and Featherpaw realized that her waterfall had finally come.

OOOOOOooOoOoOOoooooOOoOOoOOoOoooO

Stormpaw had dropped into Silverpaw's life when she had least expected it, like a star falling from the heavens to tumble down in front of her in a bundle of tortoiseshell fur. To Silverpaw, Stormpaw meant _determination _like Featherpaw, _courage _like Scorchpaw, _safety _like Wolfpaw, and _wild _and _free _like a hawk flying over the world. She eagerly listened to Stormpaw's hushed whispering and almost nodded her head off when the tortoiseshell sent a stern glare in her direction and asked if she could keep it a secret and tell no one, especially not to Scorchpaw because he wasn't strong enough yet to take it.

Silverpaw remembered when she saw the ragged loner first, curled up in the medicine cat's den. The moment those green eyes opened to stare into her own, she found herself gazing at a frightened cat and saw, in her grass-green depths, adventures and the wind and faraway places that were as unfathomable as the bottom of the Moonpool.

Stormpaw was _determined _and _brave _and _safe_ and _wild _and as _free_ as the sky, and as Stormpaw whispered into her ear about a promise from the mountains and a certain lynx who got left behind, Silverpaw's heart fluttered and she closed her eyes and smiled. It wasn't one of her usual happy grins that stretched from ear to ear, but rather, it was a soft, quiet one, like a rare smile that flashed from Featherpaw ever so often.

Stormpaw had fallen from the sky and had landed, breathless in front of her paws, and Silverpaw was certain that she would soon send them all tumbling head-over-heels again.

The silver she-cat opened her mouth and laughed, causing Briarlight to shush her in case she disturbed Scorchpaw, and Featherpaw cast her a curious look. You always find something to laugh about, Wolfsong had told her once. You laugh in the morning, you laughed when you caught your first prey, and you laughed when you became an apprentice. Have you run out of things to laugh about?

_Not yet, _Silverpaw thought as she found herself gazing into the green eyes again, and she remembered the tortoiseshell's promise of roaming and adventure and the far, far away mountains that were filled with things she could only dream about. _Soon, I will laugh in the face of danger._


	25. Chapter 23-I'm Dying in the Memory

_"If I can feel all this_

_there must be something _

_good _

_in the universe..."_

_-Ezra Pound_

* * *

CHAPTER 23-I'm Dying in the Memory

She's beautiful. That's what Snowstorm thought when he came down from the sky for the first time in a long, long while. There were scars all along her flank, a particular nasty one that contrasted sharply against her dark fur, and still she was beautiful. He wanted to gaze into her eyes but they were closed and sleeping.

He tipped his head to one side. _Will she recognize me? _The stick-thing (had its name been 'Capella'?) had once told him that what was lost was not always forgotten, but Snowstorm didn't know if he had been dead for so long that the stars had ground holes into his pelt, that the dust in the corners of the universe had dirtied his fur and his eyes were now nothing but asteroids. The thought of her seeing him and not knowing who he was made him feel like he was dying all over again.

Her scent was the same as always. A warm, languid smell that reminded him of the _Bird of Paradise, _and it brought back memories of a golden field, glittering frost and snow, and then rocks and distant mountains. His brother was sleeping next to her, and the way the two were curled up together made Snowstorm smile. Slowly, the tom leaned forward and hesitated. The moon was white. The night was dark.

_Shadowstar will kill me, _he thought, before touching his nose to Shadefrost's black fur.

The she-cat awoke with a startled gasp. Snowstorm stepped forward quickly, and if he still had a live heart, then it would be pounding. The touch of the dead could be chilling; it could freeze you to the bone. He hoped that he didn't surprise her too much.

She squinted at him, still dazed from the sleep, and he was satisfied to see that her eyes were still the same kind of warm brown that he had grown to love. With his nonexistent heart pounding away inside his chest, he watched as she stirred, groaned a little, and finally those brown eyes settled to peer into his.

There was a moment of silence. He heard her take in a sharp breath of air. Her voice trembled.

"Snowstorm?" She squinted at him.

_Yes, _he thought. _Yes, yes, yes. It's me. _He was afraid for a moment that he might break down and cry, or that his heart would pound right out of his chest, or he would simply vanish and disappear forever, but all of those thoughts left him when she hugged him close and he felt her fur brush his. The only thing he could think about was the warmth of her body against his cold one and the purring that rose from both of them.

He missed this so much. Sleeping inside the warriors den, hunting prey, going on patrols, being alive. Even though he was dead and his journey had ended, he still wanted to go to distant places and have more than what life had given him. But Shadefrost was here, and just for tonight he didn't want anything other than to breathe in her scent and twine his tail around hers and laugh just how they used to, a long time ago.

"Great StarClan!" Dewstep was awake now, staring at him with wide eyes. "Is it really you?"

Shadefrost cast a nervous glance around her sleeping denmates. "We have to find somewhere else to talk. They'll wake up any second now."

Snowstorm chuckled and said gently, "It's alright, Shadefrost. We're all in a dream. They can't see or hear you."

"Snowstorm," his brother said, and the sadness in the voice made Snowstorm double back and widen his eyes. They were sad because they hadn't seen each other in years and Snowstorm was dead and they could never go back to what they once were, before Fang and the Darklings and the obsidian, when everything had been so simple and all they wanted to do was to be the best warriors they could be.

While the three of them stood there in silence, unsure of what to say, Shadefrost gently placed her tail on the ghost's shoulder and smiled. She said, "Let me show you the meadow. Did you know that tulips grow there now?"

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_It's funny, _Snowstorm thought. _I was the one who first showed her this place when we were apprentices. _This time, she was doing the same to him.

The place hadn't changed much, but then there wasn't a lot to see because everything was covered in snow. A few tufts of brown grass were sticking up here and there, and the fireflies and crickets, of course, had gone. But Snowstorm knew this place since he was young, and he closed his eyes and could imagine what it would look like in the blooming of New-leaf: soft, lush fur-like grass that were tall enough to brush your shoulders, as golden as the sun. Fireflies flickering among them like stars that had lost their way. And everywhere was the scent of bittersweet blossoms, evident now even through the layers and layers of glittering, silent white snow.

He wondered if the dandelions were all asleep now, buried underneath the snow. The thought of the dandelions made him remember something, and the memory brought back a vision of him and the apprentice Ashley rolling around in the meadow, laughing in the night, blowing dandelions and wishing on shooting stars.

Before he knew what he was saying, he whipped his head around and asked, "Did your wish ever come true, Shadefrost?"

She looked up from sniffing at a clump of withered plants and only blinked at him curiously. "Hmm? What wish?"

She couldn't have remembered, Snowstorm realized sadly. It was too long ago.

Her eyes lit up against the darkness. "You always told me that the shooting stars were the ones with magic." The smile softened her eyes and made her look almost sad. "Of course. I almost forgot about that. What did you wish for when you were an apprentice?"

"Oh." He gazed upward at the night sky, at the moon and at the empty black space between the stars. "I was a mouse-brain back then."

Dewstep joked, "You still are."

"I...I made a wish on the stars. But it never came true." He was crying now, if a ghost could cry. But the tears were real.

"Snowstorm!"

"Oh, Snowstorm."

Dewstep and Shadefrost were on him in an instant. He felt like a kit now, sandwiched between the two cats. He forced himself to grin. "No, that was ages ago. It doesn't matter anymore, does it?"

"No," Dewstep replied. "I suppose it doesn't."

There was more silence. Snowstorm would have wanted the night to be infinite so that they wouldn't have to leave the meadow, so that they could stay here close together and feel their warmth and just be like this forever.

"Snowstorm," Shadefrost meowed. Her eyes hardened. "I...I spoke to Onestar a few days ago. My friend got beat up pretty bad by some of his warriors. They...they did it because they think that we're murderers. You see, a few WindClan warriors were found dead between our border. Among them was a queen and two apprentices." Her voice trembled. "And do you know what Onestar said when I confronted him?"

Her voice was strong now. He was surprised. When he looked at her, she was staring up at the moon. Dewstep was standing rigidly behind him, focused on making little marks in the snow with his claws.

"Onestar told me that it was our fault in the first place for starting all this, and to keep our paws away from his Clanmates if we don't want anything bad to happen. He said it with such ferocity, Snowstorm. I was startled."

Snowstorm was surprised too. He muttered under his breath, "Moleclaw, Sedgewhisker, Hootpaw, Oatpaw, and Weaselfur. Who's going to be next?"

Dewstep murmured, "So far, only ThunderClan and WindClan cats have been slain. It's as if the killer's doing this on purpose. As if he knows that it'll spark tension between the two Clans."

The dark grey tom turned to Shadefrost. "So what are you going to do?"

Her brown eyes narrowed and turned almost black in the shadows. "Sam almost died out there. If I don't do something, more cats will be hurt."

_And there will be a war. _The words weren't spoken, but it hung heavily over them like a thundercloud.

Snowstorm laughed and drew Shadefrost in closer. He said, "You're the Guardian of the Lake, Shadefrost. You've already saved the Clans once. You can do it again."

She gazed at him, and seemed to think a bit before answering, "Except that my prophecy is over. It's Sam's duty now."

Snowstorm's eyes widened. "You...you already know about her prophecy?"

"Are you talking about Stormpaw?" Dewstep sputtered in disbelief.

Snowstorm heaved a tired breath, and he wondered just how much information he could afford to tell them. _Shadowstar's going to shred my ears when I go back..._

"Yes. StarClan chose her. I wasn't a part of it because only the most important souls got to make the decisions, but they told me that they saw something inside her that separated her from everyone else."

Dewstep raised a skeptical eyebrow. "And what do you mean by that?"

"I'm not sure. I haven't seen it myself. But they say that they sense some force in her that's struggling to get out. They say it might be big enough to affect the entire universe."

His brother scoffed. "Just to make sure, you're still talking about Stormpaw right?"

Shadefrost pressed, "Don't you think that StarClan is making a bigger fuss over WindClan than they should? You don't need a big power like that just to stop a war..."

"Except that the trouble's not just with WindClan. There's something else coming. Something dark. I wanted to warn you sooner, but..."

Dewstep's eyes narrowed. Instantly, he was alert and ready for battle. "What kind of trouble?"

"No one can say yet, not even StarClan. But they can sense it. It's making all the stars tremble."

"Snowstorm." Her voice was gentle now. She drew a tongue over his ear and touched her nose against his shoulder. His body, which had been tense before, suddenly relaxed.

"I know you're trying not to make me worry," she mewed. It was enough to make him trust her. "But I need to know. I have to protect my Clan."

Snowstorm looked at how the moon glazed her pelt so that it looked like she was glowing silver. He had forgotten just how much he had missed her. He sighed wearily.

"The world's going to end soon." Even the taste of the words were out of place, absurd, stupid and ridiculous. The end of the world meant the end of the meadow and the stars and the Clan and the Lake, and anything and everything that he had ever known and it just seemed so bizarre, a lie, a bad dream that went away when the sun came out.

Dewstep lashed his tail. "What do you mean by that? The world's just going to literally end? Cease to exist? You know how dumb that sounds."

Snowstorm ruffled his white fur and replied, "I know, but that's what everyone's been telling me. Just..." He drew his eyes over the two cats worriedly. "Be safe."

When the she-cat suddenly gave a small gasp and Dewstep's hackles began to rise, Snowstorm glanced down at himself in surprise to see that he was fading.

He grinned reassuringly. "Don't worry. This just means that I have to go back to StarClan's territory soon." He didn't tell them that if he stayed here longer, he would vanish. The earth was meant for the living and the afterlife was meant for the dead. He couldn't survive out of StarClan's realm for longer than a number of hours.

He felt torn when Shadefrost gazed at him with sorrowful eyes, and even without words he knew what she wanted. "So soon?" she asked him.

"Yes," he meowed, and they pressed their heads against each other's one last time in farewell. He didn't want to forget the scent of her fur or the feel of it against his own. Great StarClan, he had missed this. It had been years since they had last seen each other.

Dewstep broke in eagerly. "But you'll still be watching over us, right? Isn't that what ancestors do?"

The white tom quickly nodded in reply, hoping that he could mask his worry behind another gentle grin as he touched noses with his brother. He didn't tell him that after this night, Shadowstar might banish him to the far-out reaches of StarClan.

His white fur turned silver. Pulsing orbs swirled around his paws as the warriors stared at him in awe. He was glowing, and then as he began to fade and the earth grew dim, he suddenly remembered something that he needed to tell her.

"Don't worry about Stormpaw," he said. "She'll be fine. Her wounds will heal, but she will be faced with a path that you can't control. But don't worry."

Shadefrost blinked. "What do you mean? What path?"

With the last of his body that was ebbing away and swirling into the night air, he padded forward and rested his head against her shoulder. "You know her as well as I do," he purred. "You can't tell me that she won't get herself in some trouble again."

"Tr-trouble? What's she going to do?"

"I keep telling you, she'll be just fine. I see that she has a talent of making other cats worry." He cast his fading amber gaze over to her, then to his brother. He wanted to remember the looks in their eyes and the scent of the meadow wafting to join their own. "Goodbye," he breathed, and he vanished into the stars.

He felt cold air whoosh past him, and before he knew it, he was standing among trees swathed with stars against a lit sky where comets soared and constellations glittered endlessly. He breathed in the crisp scent of stardust and closed his eyes, hoping that he could stand here among the trees by himself until dawn came.

"You visited her," an iron voice said behind him.

"Yes. I guess I just couldn't keep away."

"You just couldn't keep away," the iron voice repeated.

Snowstorm opened his eyes and hesitated. "...What are you going to do now?"

Shadowstar padded forward to stand beside him, and together, they observed the habits of the universe and the lazily turning planets that could never keep still. "I am going to do nothing," she said at last. "Because there is nothing more we can do except to wait."

"Are you afraid, Shadowstar?"

Defiance came into her piercing gaze and she curled her lip into a stubborn snarl. "Of course I am," she said, wincing as she said it. "Who wouldn't be? We've got so much to lose."

The black cat jumped a little in surprise when she felt a tail pressed against her flank. Snowstorm was smiling at her gently, and as she stared back into his amber gaze, she felt herself relaxing. How could he be so calm at a time like this? she wondered.

He meowed, "When Ashley first came to me, I had my doubts as well. Even now, she is a poor hunter. But look at her, Shadowstar. She's changed. She's happier now. And imagine. If the Guardian is able to accomplish this much, then how much farther will Stormpaw go?"

Shadowstar stared back, as still as stone. Finally, she rasped, "You want me to trust in Stormpaw."

"Of course. What else can we do?"

Suddenly, a kind of anger overtook her and she shook herself free from the tom's grasp. Whipping away, she stalked over to the deepest part of the forest and growled softly, "It's much too late to save this broken world."

OoOOOoOOOoOoOooooOOOooOOoOooooOOoOoOoOoOOOOooOO

It's always that same dream. Whenever I wake up, I squint and shrug and wonder, _Why in the world did I even dream that? _but more often than not I want to understand it.

_ I was standing in front of a cliff with the harsh sun shining on my face so hard that I could barely squint my eyes open. The canyon was a scar on the dry ground, as deep as the ocean and longer than long. It looked like a giant had leaned down with one claw to draw a line over the earth, and no matter how hard I peered in I couldn't see what lay at the bottom._

_I must have been in a desert, because nothing grew around me except for sparse tumbleweeds and the broken, skeletal shapes of things that could have been dead trees. The sun seemed to be everywhere; it was roasting me alive. For some reason, there was a pain in my chest as if someone had reached in and left an empty space just between my lungs. I was sad enough to start crying, except I could sense someone standing right next to me and I couldn't cry in front of him. _

_"Do you ever wonder," he said, "what everything would be like if none of this had happened?" I listened to the pain in his words, and although he was standing at such an angle to my right that I couldn't see him, I could imagine what he would look like: brown, tangled hair trailing over eyes covered in shadow. And yet, he wasn't exactly human. And still, the stinging in my chest and in the corner of my eyes wouldn't leave, and I could imagine myself just falling into the canyon, the blackness opening up to swallow me down. _

_"We should have never done this," he said, "But no matter what happens, we have to keep moving."_

I awoke sharply when I felt someone walk into the den. Against my half-open eyelids, I could see the blackened silhouette of someone padding in through the moonlit opening, but her familiar scent made me calm down. Geez, I was as jumpy as a cricket ever since that fight with the WindClan cats. Forcing my heart to stop beating so fast, I curled up again against the moss.

"How are you feeling, Sam?" Shadefrost asked as she stretched, then settled down beside me. I grinned. "Of course I'm fine. Did you miss me so much that you had to come visit in the middle of the night?"

She was worried. She never said what she was feeling, but I could see it, plain as day. I snuggled up closer next to her and felt her warmth. "Scared of the dark?" I joked. "Don't worry, even Bloody Mary wouldn't come this far to follow you." My eyes were closed, but I could sense her quiet laughter in the rising and falling of her ribs. Bloody Mary, along with the Boogeyman and ghosts had long since left us behind in our childhood. Ashley had always freaked out about shadows; she was scared of the dark and wouldn't walk down a hallway alone.

But that was a long time ago when we were both still young. Eventually, I was falling asleep again to the rhythm of our soft breathing.

She didn't leave. My heart fluttered. What will I do when she decided to stay with me until morning? My plan would be ruined! I never expected for this to happen.

"Sam," she whispered. "You know that WindClan wouldn't dare set a claw on you again. I made sure of that."

"Of course, mouse-brain," I replied. I knew she could hear the affection in my words. "I don't need you to protect me, you know. I bet you I'm strong enough to pound a badger into the dust."

She chuckled. "Maybe if you were still a human, you could."

This was reminding me of the old days. We were huddled up together against the couch wrapped in a mountain of blankets, the T.V. blaring out nonsense but we weren't listening to it, we were instead exchanging jokes and stories and just watching the shadows dancing on the ceiling, the chirping of the crickets and our breaths moving in unison.

In my mind, I saw Ashley with a drink in her hand, leaning backward against the railing of the patio with the ice cubes clinking in the glass, throwing her head up to laugh at what I had just said, the laughter the only thing I could hear in the twilight sky. I saw Ashley tackling me with one of the hugs that I had loathed so much, I saw Ashley with an ice cream in hand, the one I had just bought her, holding up a peace sign in front of the camera, and I saw her and me together on the beach that one summer ago, a clump of tossed kelp in my hair and a seagull feather in hers.

"I care about you a lot," I whispered into her flank, imagining that the pelt brushing against my face was hair instead of fur.

"I know."

It was almost enough to make me forget about the plan and Len and the mountains and everything I had whispered into the ears of Wolfsong and Silverpaw and Featherpaw, but the memory of Len's story hardened and lingered.

I'm sorry, Ashley. But I have to do this.


	26. Chapter 24-Believe in Me

CHAPTER 24-Believe in Me

The night was young but the moon was bright and swelling like a fruit. I stole away from the medicine cats' den, the sharp pains still lingering on my skin and making me wince as I moved, the pain that I knew would eventually heal into scars but would never leave me. They were already waiting for me there, all three of them draped in shadows with their heads outlined by the white of the moon. They were silent, waiting. I nodded to them, hoping that they wouldn't see my limp.

Wolfsong was staring back at the silent, sleeping camp. She asked me if I was as willing as this to just leave everything behind, and as she said it she took in the whole forest with a sweep of her tail, with the silent camp and the cats inside and Ashley who was still sound asleep, who would one day wake up to find that I was gone.

This was our last chance. Our one last chance to turn back and pretend none of this had ever happened. I stared back at her solid blue gaze, amazed at how much her eyes could look like water. They were a deep, penetrating blue that seemed to stare deep into mine, and for a second, I wondered if she could actually read my thoughts. They were as blue as water yet somewhere inside was a single spark of adamant flame that could make snakes recoil. There was a poem somewhere in there, I thought.

_Are you sure about this?_

And then I thought about the mountains and the cat who called himself the Prince like some messed up character in a messed up fairy tale, and of a lonely lynx who stood perched on the highest peak of the tallest mountain all by himself with the wind in his face and a lifetime of broken promises and scathing tones behind him.

I didn't need to say it out loud. They could tell just by looking at me. I could feel it, a sense of determination welling up beneath my skin like blood, like it was a part of me. It rushed in my veins and brought thrill and excitement, of looming mountains and unknown territories that no map could ever draw out, and I could almost taste the calling in the air and the song in my ears and I knew that they could feel it too, Wolfsong and Silverpaw and Featherpaw and if Scorchpaw were here with us instead of healing, unconscious in the medicine den, then I knew he would be thinking the same thing.

And we ran away.

* * *

I cursed under my breath, low enough for Silverpaw not to hear but for Featherpaw to cast me a sympathetic glance that was so unlike her usual splitting gaze. There was a question in her eyes. She was asking me something that they were all thinking but couldn't say. It struck me as funny that Featherpaw, the cat with a useless throat, could ask me something so easily with her face that the others couldn't bring themselves to voice out loud.

She asked me-

"No," I said, not only to her but to the rest of them who were faltering and beginning to have second thoughts. My gaze softened. "No." It suddenly seemed that I was also speaking to the dark woods and the black-cut trees who looked like thin, hooded men underneath the looming moon. It seemed that I was speaking to Ahote and the den full of spite, to Len and to the Prince a million miles away. A single word of defiance, me telling them that _no, _what I was doing was not for them to decide.

Featherpaw's tail twitched at my answer, unsatisfied and still asking with her eyes. But she must have seen something in mine for she turned away and kept looking. That was all we could do right now-search and taste the wind, hoping, _wishing _that there was someway we could bring the lynx back to us, that he wasn't as far gone as we had thought. _You don't have to live like this, like an outcast-if I could see you again-_

If we could actually find him, if I could still catch a glimpse of his spotted coat and his yellow-green eyes, then that alone would tell that there was still hope in a godforsaken planet as this, that a suffering person could still belong and know he was loved-

If that was so, then I could still be happy.

Beside me, Wolfsong stiffened like a deer with a hunter's gun pointed at its head. "Something moved," she whispered. Her voice was low and dangerous like the hissing of an adder. We all stilled. I held my breath. Did I hear noises or was that just my head trying to scare myself? The grass and branches moved and wavered with the shifting of the air. The snow glittered silently underneath the round, rusted moon like a million scales.

"Stay close to me," I whispered, unsheathing my claws. "Whatever happens, just stay by my side." My wounds shrieked again and I was instantly reminded of that other day with Scorchpaw and the WindClan warriors, the day that had been like any other except it had ended stained in a color as red as tulips. My cuts ached and the forest had ganged up against us so that we were only four small, insignificant children who had been caught outside beyond our curfew. The trees were like the strangers who had come to whisk us away, and I thought stupid, how stupid of me to actually come here only _I didn't regret a single thing_ because what I was doing, what I was doing was for a lonely lynx who had spent a lifetime hoping and wishing for something that never came.

"Who's there?" a dry voice came from a black bush. I almost leaped out of my skin. Because I felt that I knew that voice. And I thought that I knew that shape that hopped out from underneath that bush, a small, round and plump thing with ears that stuck straight out of his head and long, gangling hind limbs and a twitching nose.

I groaned inwardly and straightened up. I really had no time for this.

"Stormpaw? Is that you?" he asked as he bounded closer. He perked up as he stood up on his hind legs. "Ah, glad to see you again! I thought I scented you. And you've brought your friends?" He craned his neck forward to catch a glance at my companions.

"Stormpaw?" Wolfsong asked. "Who is he?" but Silverpaw, who wouldn't even know how to keep silent even if her mouth had been glued shut, leaped up and exclaimed, "Whoa, a talking rabbit! Can we keep him, Wolfsong? Please?"

"Altas," I said firmly, glaring down at him. "Go away."

He puffed out his chest and looked almost offended. "You're always so blunt. It's been months since we've last seen each other, and the first thing you ask me to do is leave?"

"Do you know him?" Wolfsong asked me. "We're not dreaming, are we? He really can talk?"

Silverpaw crouched down until she could stare at him without stooping her neck. "Are you really a rabbit?" she asked with awe. He shuffled his feet and flattened his long ears against his head, a gleam of pride in his dark eyes. Politely, he coughed into his paw. "Why, yes," he said simply with an air of arrogance around him. "_Oryctolagus cuniculus. _But you may call me Atlas."

"How can you talk?"

"My dear, I am a traveler. I have been in many places, seen much, done much. I have learned the tongues of several species as well as their habits. Cat, fox, dog, sparrow, you name it."

_Len. _I couldn't stand here and glare at the stupid bunny all night. I had to find him. We had been here for probably over an hour, calling his name and searching for his scent but still, the trees wouldn't let us reach him.

Featherpaw nudged my shoulder insistently and I nodded back. _I know. _We couldn't waste any more time. "Stop talking to him, Silverpaw," I said as sternly as I could. "Don't forget why we came here." She looked up at me with wide eyes and paused for a minute, collecting her thoughts and remembering. Then she bounded to her paws and chirped, "Right! We haven't checked the ShadowClan border yet!"

"Oh, are you all searching for something?" the rabbit asked.

"Get lost," I growled, showing him my teeth and knowing the reason why he winced and backed away. "I don't have time for you. Why don't you go bother someone else?"

He tipped his head to one side, eyeing me silently. Then he answered, "You're always angry."

"And you're always an annoying roach. Let's go, Featherpaw." We turned away from him and padded deeper into the undergrowth. I expected him to call back after us or run, but I didn't hear anything moving behind me. Reluctantly, with a lot of effort, I turned my head to him. He was still there, propped on his hind legs, staring after us in the shadows with an unemotional expression on his face. But then again, rabbits didn't really have any expressions.

"What do you want?" I spat. God, couldn't he just leave already?

"You're not only angry, you're desperate. There's something you want but it's out of reach. This night is an important night for you, isn't it?" he said gently, as if talking about the weather. Nice moon, isn't it Stormpaw? A bit of a chilly breeze. Watch your step, don't trip. It made the back of my neck prickle because his tone was so soft, as soft as featherdown, so unlike my own scathing voice and he was gazing after me with large, warm brown wet eyes that glittered even in the dark.

"It's an important night," he said again. "Because this one night could either change your life forever or it could remain the same. You can either gain something or lose something tonight, and you're angry and desperate because life seems adamant in keeping you away. You're not upset at anyone or even at yourself, you're just afraid. So very, very afraid. Am I right, Stormpaw?."

I saw Len again, saw his grey coat and the black tips of his ears and a broken look in his eyes as if they reflected his heart. And every second that I was standing here could mean another mile between me and him, and it was possible that I would never see him again and he would run far away from here.

Of course I was afraid.

Atlas must know that I thought it and would never say out loud, for he hopped a few steps closer until there was only two or three feet between us. He looked up at me and I looked down at him, our gazes connected with brown against green.

"How did you know that tonight was important?" I asked him. He only chuckled. "Well you see, I've experienced the very same thing many years ago. Now, then." He rubbed his paws together. "I'm very good at finding things, if I do say so myself."

There was a silence that stretched between us. He blinked at me kindly. He didn't ask me anything, but I could feel a question lingering in the air. _Would you like...?_ And I thought that maybe, just for this one night, I could tone my voice down a bit and pretend that boundaries didn't exist.

"Yes."

* * *

"Step lightly now. The vines are the ones you should look out for." The dumb rabbit hopped daintily over twisted brambles and snapped twigs, his ears perched upright on top of his head like some ridiculous new fashion. He stopped and waited for us to catch up to him, panting and out of breath. Silverpaw flopped down onto the grass with a tired gasp of breath and planted her face onto the ground.

Atlas furrowed his brow. "Oh come on, don't be like that. Hop on! We can't wait all night, can we?" He turned to me. "Tell them to get a move on, won't you Stormpaw?"

I stared at him and then prodded Silverpaw. "Hey."

"Mmmph," she growled. "I know, I know. Just let me rest here for a few seconds, 'kay?"

"Only a few seconds," the rabbit said sternly.

"Only for a few seconds," Wolfsong agreed.

* * *

"All of you! Take a whiff at that! You can smell that, can't you?"

"Whippee! He's nearby! He's nearby, Stormpaw! His scent is-"

"Hush, now. Lower your voice. Don't scare him away, alright?"

"Sorry, Wolfsong."

"Oi, Stormpaw! Don't just stand there looking as surprised as if you've just witnessed a miracle, you're supposed to be celebrating like Silver over here! We found him, Stormpaw."

"..."

"Stormpaw?"

"Haha, yeah. We found him."

"What are-You're crying."

"We found him. Thank StarClan, we found him."

* * *

The lynx stood stock-still in front of us with his yellow-green eyes flickering uncertainly first to the others, and then finally resting on me. His fur was matted and ungroomed and he was leaner than I last saw him, and his jaws were parted slightly as if wanting to ask something but not trusting himself to speak. I wonder what he saw in us. Four small cats and one dumb bunny. A ragtag group of misfits who had no right to butt their heads into someone else's business.

"What are you-I mean, what?" he managed to gasp out in surprise.

"Len!" Silverpaw meowed happily and was just about to charge forward to topple him over in a hug, but Wolfsong barred her way and the small apprentice blinked up at her, confused. Wolfsong nodded over at me.

I stepped forward and gave Len a reassuring smile. "Hey. It's us."

And then, all of a sudden like the morphing of spilled water into a puddle, the shocked look on his face instantly became cold, as harsh as the snow that surrounded us and I jerked back, eyes wide.

He growled low like a dog. "What are you doing here?" he spat out.

"I-we-"

"Leave me alone. I have stayed here for too long already. Just go away and let me leave in peace."

I blinked at him and furrowed my brow. "Leave? But where are you planning to go?" I was half-hoping that he'd say the mountains, but of course not. Not with the Prince roaming there. Not with Chogan.

He didn't answer me. He ran his gaze over one last time, a chilling look in his eyes that seemed nothing like his usual self. I finally began to realize, just as Wolfsong and Featherpaw and Silverpaw realized, that this creature standing in front of us was a full-grown lynx with knives for claws and teeth that could mangle bone. He was half-crouched above the snow, shoulders tensed and bunched up as if preparing to pounce, only he wasn't because he had never struck against anyone in his entire life.

"Listen to me, Len," I meowed gently. "I told Wolfsong, Silverpaw, and Featherpaw about you." He tensed, and I continued, "Let us help you."

Finally, his hackles flattened ever so slightly. After a while, he whispered, "What are you going to do?"

"Take us to the mountains." At this, he rose up again and his eyes flared up. Snarling, he growled, "I could never do that! It is dangerous there! Are you stupid?"

"Take us to the mountains," I repeated, only this time my voice wavered and I took a single step away from the bristling and snarling lynx. But I didn't run. I couldn't leave. My gaze hardened. "I know what to do. You'll lead us there and I'll talk to the Prince or whoever the heck he is. I'll take the mountains back for you. Your home. Don't you want that?"

He had stopped snarling and the fire died out so that he was staring at me with something like sadness. A lone wind reached for him and ruffled his fur, and he stood and just stared at all of us. His face softened. "I can not let you do this. But I am very grateful. Thank you." He dipped his head. "I can not let you follow me. Go back to your Clan. The road I have is much too dangerous for you to travel."

I looked at this scrawny, starving lynx and thought how in the world he could say that.

But of course he could. He had spent a life surrounded by hostility with hardly anyone he could depend on, and then the only true thing he had known-the mountains-had been ripped away from him and he was on the move again, only this time he was really on his own now. Had he ever trusted anyone besides the mountain and his brother? He hadn't. He couldn't bring himself to. Maybe he never will.

Maybe this really wasn't the most important night of my life. Maybe this whole plan was idiotic and I was being just plain stupid and I should laugh and say, 'Yeah, you're right. I shouldn't have done this' and then turn back into the den and pretend none of this had ever happened, waking up the next day with a snoring Silverpaw by my side and Featherpaw and Dewstep waiting impatiently for me to catch up to them, waiting for Scorchpaw's wounds to heal so we could train again, day after day after day after a million days.

A lonely lynx sitting with his back to the wind, in the snow.

Silverpaw said sadly, "_Len."_

And I told him that the forest was quiet tonight, that no one would see us anyway. I told him that he would show us the way to the mountains and we would walk together for three days. Just three days, and in that time he could decide and make up his mind whether he wanted to finish the rest of the way or go off and disappear from us forever.

Three days was enough time to think and decide, right? I asked him.

He hesitated. He was good at hesitating. And while hesitating he must have realized that it would take much more to shake us off, that we weren't going to give up on him anytime soon, and maybe he was just tired of everything and was tired of being pushed around and deciding and making choices, and so he looked at all of us in a tired, defeated way and he said-

"Fine."

* * *

These cats were all going to get themselves killed one day, Len decided. Either from chance or from life trying to teach them something or just from sheer, dumb recklessness, they would all find themselves toppling down a cliff when they should run instead of fight.

But he didn't say it out loud.

* * *

Day one. The forest had long since disappeared behind them and now they were walking underneath a sky stretched wide above an unfamiliar ground, the sky so blue it was blinding. Four cats beside him and one rabbit who could never keep still and who Stormpaw hated.

_Are you sure this is the right way?_

Of course it was, wasn't it? Only now, he had been away for so long that he wasn't sure. Silverpaw was romping a good ten paces in front of them, laughing and singing to the birds and even though Len wanted to sing along with her he didn't because this wasn't what they should be doing.

Featherpaw was walking at a much slower pace, taking her time and staring ahead. She didn't seem worried, but then again he couldn't possibly know what she could be thinking about behind those half-closed eyelids. Wolfsong was talking to him, trying to get him to reply back and smiling and saying, How's the weather? only he wasn't interested in anything other than thinking, _Why am I doing this? I'm only endangering them. I can't let myself do this, I have to take them back to where they belong either by force or-_

Cats didn't belong in mountains and neither did Len, and more than anything he wanted to chase away the uncertainty clouding his vision and just _turn back already before something breaks and someone else gets hurt, _but he couldn't bring himself to say it because he didn't want to see Stormpaw's hope extinguished.

They were all idiots. He meant it in the kindest way possible, but still they were idiots. Him included.

* * *

The sky turned into the moon and stars and it saddened him to think that once, a long time ago, Kateri had set him down with he and his brother and told him the story about how the stars were created.

"Nice evening, isn't it?" the rabbit greeted him warmly. Len still thought it queer that the rabbit could understand him and he the rabbit, so he didn't say anything. And it was even more stranger to see that the rabbit had a sack of something slung on his back. "Don't worry," the rabbit said. "They should all be asleep by now."

"I wouldn't bet on that," meowed Stormpaw, and they turned to see her padding toward them in the night. "You still here, Atlas? Get lost."

"You look as pretty as a picture today, my lady," the rabbit smiled as he spoke, revealing tiny white teeth. What a _picture _or a _lady _was, Len still needed time to find out, but oddly Stormpaw seemed to know.

"Tell them not to sleep out in the open," Len told her, referring to the others who lay dozing in the snow. "They could get sick." Very sick. Didn't he tell them that the journey was long and very, very dangerous? They wouldn't listen, and he found himself worrying about them all over again. They were all fools and he didn't think even Wolfsong would understand what _danger_ meant.

"I should tell you the same thing," Stormpaw purred. "Don't sleep out in the open like this."

Len reassured her gently, "I am fine."

"I don't believe you."

* * *

Day two. Len was growing more desperate now. He flashed them a wide grin and said brightly, "Really, you do not need to be doing this. It is my own business."

"We're not leaving you until the three days are up. Then you can decide for certain what you want to do."

A word like _hope _flashed through his mind but he shook it away like a fly. No, no, once these cats understood that it was all pointless, they would finally leave. Len smiled at them again and meowed, "Trust me." The smile was fake.

He didn't let himself believe that these cats might be able to finally, _finally _set him free and show him a path that they could all take together. He didn't allow himself to believe in hopes as petty as those.

_I've been hoping for a long while now, _he thought. Ever since Chogan had died and Ahote and everyone else had to flee from the Prince, he had hoped that someone would come and save him and turn every upside-down thing right again. _Not every wish comes true._ He had found that out the hard way. And every time he had dared to _hope, _life would give him a reason not to again.

Silverpaw asked him if she could help catch a mouse for him. He shook his head and said no because it was easier to smile than to cry and admit everything. He asked himself just how long he could keep living like this.

* * *

"Come on, Len! Join in the fun!" Stormpaw laughed. They had come across a whole nest of squirrels, enough to satisfy all of them and keep them full for hours on end (much to the disgust of the rabbit, who said he would 'much prefer grass over a carnivorous diet').

Featherpaw tossed a squirrel in his direction and he caught it in his paw. It was a rule of the den to always let the _ogama _eat first, but Ahote was not here and the cats were all smiling and eating themselves sick with squirrel meat.

He wanted to tell them not to eat so fast so they'll choke and not to stuff themselves so much that they'd burst, and to save some leftover squirrels for the next day and not lap it all up at once, but he stopped himself when Stormpaw shoved the prey in his face and cried out in glee,"What are you waiting for, mouse-brain?"

He realized that they were not trying to make fun of him or make him trip and fall over. They were not snickering at him because he was useless, they were laughing freely with smiles and wide mouths just because they were happy and they had more food than they knew what to do with.

Len grinned widely in return and yelled, "Let's eat!" before diving in to inhale as much of the prey as he could swallow.

* * *

It was Atlas who finally had to snatch the rest of it away from their jaws, shrieking in disbelief, "Are you monsters? How many have you eaten? You'll burst your stomach open at a rate like this!" And it was true because Len really did feel as if he had swallowed boulders, so full he could only lie on the snow and wonder if he could probably go throw up.

"Ahhh, I've never eaten this much!" Silverpaw giggled, rolling around above his head. "Vulgar slobs," Atlas huffed. "You were all at it like wolves. Really, if I didn't know any better it'd seem that you all hadn't eaten for years!"

"Get lost, rabbit," Stormpaw groaned, her face flat on the snow, voice muffled. "It was like a party."

"Some party," Atlas sniffed, looking as stern as ever. "You're not supposed to get yourselves sick on purpose at a party."

Again, Len wondered what a _party _was but he found that it didn't really matter, because he felt like he would burst like an egg and he felt happy.

"You're all disgusting, rude beasts, you know that?" Atlas said.

Len smirked. "We can be worse if we feel like it."

The rabbit shook his head in disbelief and laughed.

* * *

Day three.

"You know we're doing this for you for a reason," Wolfsong tells him. Her blue eyes didn't lie, yet Len forced himself not to believe anything because nothing in the world spoke the truth, that an acorn could be so tiny one moment but as towering as an oak the next.

"Leave me alone," he said, hardening his voice on purpose so it would drive her away. One thing no other lynx knew about him was that he _did _know what it felt like to be angry, that he only let them push him around and yell hateful things at him because it was always so easier to cower and take it than to actually stand up to them.

He felt safe around the four cats and one rabbit because they weren't here to jeer at him and give him scornful glares, but right now all of that was forgotten.

"Believe in us," Wolfsong tells him, and something about that splits his mouth into a snarl and he just wants to grab her and hurt her because how _dare_ she say that, didn't she know how hard it was for him to just let everything go and put every once of faith in this ragtag group of misfits? She didn't understand what he had to go through, how he had spent these long years with a bloodthirsty band of lynxes that he had called his family and father and mother. He could take care of himself perfectly fine, and he snaps at her that she should start believing in him before he could do the same to her.

She only blinks, unfazed at his outburst. "Of course I trust you. I understand that you know what you're saying. I trust that even if I leave you alone with my sister, a lynx like you wouldn't rip her apart like a dog. I trust that you can speak freely to Stormpaw. I trust that you understand Featherpaw's silence." She softens up and Len can see that she is trying hard to make him open his eyes. "But I don't trust you with yourself."

* * *

"Who exactly is the Prince?" Stormpaw asked, and the question had been nagging her for days. Len knew that she was trying to probe deeper to see if she could help in any other way.

He shrugged. "I do not really remember. It was so long ago."

"But surely you can tell me?" she pleaded. "Come on, Len."

The spark of _hope _ignited in him again and for just one fleeting moment, he felt that he could depend on these cats with his life. But then it was gone.

He tipped his head back and smiled at the sky and meowed joyfully, "Do not worry, Stormpaw! Maybe I can teach you how to catch a deer."

"Yay!" exclaimed Silverpaw.

* * *

There were a lot of things that Len despised including the Prince and Ahote and Kateri and most of all his poisonous own self. He had already asked the universe for so many things he could not have: Chogan, his home, a _danuwari _name, love in the family and a glimpse of the future. Now it would simply be too much for the universe to handle if he asked it for just one more thing.

Len hated himself for letting the lynxes pummel him. He hated that he could not catch a mouse when Chogan had caught two, and he hated that he couldn't give back his brother's life in return when his brother had done so many things for him. And he almost hated Stormpaw, Wolfsong, Silverpaw, Featherpaw, and Atlas for giving him the thing that he had shied away from all this time.

The three days were up. Len decided that _no, _these misfits can do anything they want but just leave me out of it because I have already given up a long time ago.

* * *

Len sobbed, _Save me._

_Of course, _Stormpaw replied.


	27. Chapter 25-What Not Saved Will Be Lost

_"How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard."_

_-A.A. Milne_

CHAPTER 25-What Not Saved Will Be Lost

At first, all she could feel was a shock that made her heart stop in her chest, and then the realization that tingled in her limbs like pins and needles and worry and finally now confusion and maybe anger or possibly a little bit of both.

_She's gone. _That's the only thing she could think about, just those two words crossing her mind over and over again like a tape on repeat. She was numbly aware of Bramblestar snapping out orders and of the whole camp turning into a buzzing skirmish as they turned over every rock and bush to look for them, but she shut them out.

_Gone. _She furrowed her brow. All of them. Except Scorchpaw. The apprentice den was empty except for the moss and the dust. And the strange thing was, the one thing she couldn't figure out, was _why. _

Sam was the one who first showed her how to use the swings on the playground, the one who invited her over on warm summer nights and the one that had stood by her all the years like a pebble in the middle of the stream, its bottom fastened securely to the water so that not one thing could move it from its place, sturdy and steadfast in Shadefrost's life.

Only now, she was gone. To Shadefrost, seeing Sam's empty nest was like watching the dent in the ground where a towering oak tree had once been. It just didn't seem possible. So sudden. And how could Sam have done it, how could she?

Dewstep leaped beside her and meowed, "They've sent out as many search parties as they could right now. We'll find them soon," he promised. But she didn't listen because her mind was elsewhere, her mind was back in the little house with the endlessly running T.V. and the patio and warm summer nights, conversations over the phone and laughter and jokes and Sam everywhere and Sam always by her side-

"Shadefrost!" It took her a while to hear Dewstep and she winced at the tone of her voice. "Snap out of it!" he was saying. "You won't be able to do anything if you just stand there like that."

"I'm sorry."

His gaze softened. He rested a tail tip on her shoulder. "Relax. They can't have gone far." He was going to go on to say about how Mousewhisker had found their scent a little to the north and about how they'd be back before sun-high, but he did a double take and finally noticed the look in her eyes and the way she just sat there stiffly like a statue, as if she was made out of bits and pieces of wire that held up her shape.

"We'll find them," he said.

Shadefrost turned her face toward him, surprised at the words.

"We'll find them," he insisted again. Shadefrost was startled to find that he sounded so full of certainty. Dewstep was only stating a simple fact. The snow was cold, the sky was wide, and they will find the apprentices. She wondered if she could take this chance, but then realized that she had been taking chances ever since she had stepped into the realm of warriors. She nodded and watched as the search parties set out.

* * *

"Are you sure you don't know what happened?" Dewstep asked. "Any hints, any messages they gave you?"

"No," Scorchpaw replied, his green eyes glowing in the darkness of the den. His pelt was mussed up and the fur on one side of his face was flattened from being slept on. His eyes were half-closed and his voice was slurred, and even now the wounds on his body were still only half-healed. "I didn't know. They never told me anything." His unsheathed claws pressed into the dried moss of his nest, the edges still crusted from day-old blood. "Why didn't they tell me?"

"Then do you know why they did this?" Dewstep pressed.

"Of course not." Scorchpaw's eyes dimmed for a minute, his claws still playing with the moss. The apprentice looked annoyed. He lashed his tail and then shot the warrior a look which meant, _Why didn't they let me go with them?_

Dewstep saw the same look in Shadefrost's eyes. He sighed, heaved himself up, and padded outside.

* * *

A day had begun and the day had ended. As the sun set, the sky faded away from blue into an explosion of pink and orange. Shadefrost felt the wind brush her shoulder, sitting stock still on top of a cliff and just watching the sunset, just watching and waiting.

Dewstep said her name, but she didn't react, not even when he stepped and sat down next to her. Already the air was growing cold, and not even the bright colors of the sky could warm the snow. For a while, they just sat there and gazed off into the distance.

"I'm worried," she finally said. Dewstep tipped his head toward her, toward those first few words she had spoken since that morning. Shadefrost didn't move but continued to stare, seeing the dipping sun and the rising darkness yet not seeing at the same time.

_'Ashley! Come on, slowpoke!'_

_'Ahh, it's so slippery! Wait for me.'_

_'Great, it's starting to rain. Just great.' A bit of scuffling. 'Why didn't you hurry up like I told you to?'_

_'Sorry...'_

_'Geez, now we're both wet. Hold on. I found something.'_

Shadefrost remembered suddenly and wondered why she remembered it at a time like this, but then went on to think about other things, like how the heck Sam would be crazy enough to go out in this weather. As the black warrior finally realized that the reason why she couldn't feel her paws was because it was so darn cold, probably hovering into negative degrees at the dead of night, she wondered just how in the world Sam would be able to fend off wild predators at a time like this. Her imagination got the best of her and she imagined the tortoiseshell limping, fur ragged, trailing blood onto the snow and freezing her skin off all lost and alone in some forest.

_'What is it, Sam?' An excited scurrying of rubber boots splashing against puddles, and then a high-pitched shriek as one of them slipped. _

_'Oi, watch it, you! Do you want us to both fall? Be careful next time.' A pause. And then a rustling of bushes, wet leaves slapping against wet leaves, rain plopping down onto the sidewalk. 'Here, Ashley. We can wait it out.'_

_'But I don't see anything.'_

_'Dummy, I was talking about the bushes.' More rustling. 'There's enough room for both of us if we squeeze. Come on, there's trees on top and it's dry underneath. It's like a roof, almost.'_

_'But I don't like it! There's bugs in 'em.'_

She imagined Sam freezing to death, freezing her stupid brains out into the snow, and for the first time the warrior realized that she was angry. Her claws were leaving marks on the snow. "How could she?" she whispered.

"What?"

"How could she just leave like this without telling me. Like she doesn't trust me?" She turned to Dewstep and pleaded with her eyes, pleading him that somehow he knew the answer to what she was asking.

"I don't know," he admitted.

Shadefrost wanted to ask Sam a lot of things, but most of all she wanted to ask why she had left her out of her plans like they were strangers, why she felt so terribly empty inside as if something that had stood by her in her entire life had suddenly vanished. And in a way, it did. The shoulder that she had been leaning on all her life had finally left her.

When she was little, she always thought of Sam as the superhero who always saved her whenever things got bad. Superman coming to save the day. Sam, always Sam, always knowing where to go when it rained or telling her to put on an extra sweater because _don't you know, idiot, that you'll catch a cold today? _and Sam with her arms folded against her chest, a pissed look on her face that Shadefrost knew all too well when the boys came to pick on her and Sam would always be there to stand by her. She was a brick wall that separated Ashley from all the things that wanted to hurt her, and everyone knows that brick walls never crack. Or do they?

Ashley always thought of her as someone who wasn't afraid to stand up and keep stepping. There could be a tornado after them, there could be a blizzard or a flood or an apocalypse or just a day when all the world came crashing down on top of them, but always there would be the indomitable, unbeatable Samantha Piper who could hold her head high and stare Death down back to hell.

Only, where was she now? That was what Shadefrost wanted to know. The when's and how's and what's don't matter because right now, all she wanted to ask was _why. _Had she left for good? What if-

"Dewstep!" Shadefrost yowled, and the urgency immediately made him stand up as quick as a flash. "What? What is it?"

"What if...what if..." she could barely speak the words, lest they came true. "What if the murderer got them?"

"The killer?"

Shadefrost didn't want to think about it.

_'Stop complaining, Ashley. Just get in.' The bushes quivered as a little girl squeezed into the tiny space, safe from the barrage of rain. She patted the little room next to her. 'Well? Come on.'_

_'...'_

_'Fine then, stand there like an idiot and get wet. See if I care.'_

_Ashley huffed and finally relented when the rain threatened to bash in her skull. She hurriedly got underneath the tree and wedged herself between the bushes, and when a chilly gale hit her she tried to press closer against Sam. _

_'Oh. You were right. It's dry here.'_

_'Told you, idiot. Listen to me next time.'_

_'But I always listen to you!'_

_'Do not!'_

_'I do!'_

_For a moment, there was silence except for the endless droning of the rain, the rain hitting everywhere except for the canopy of trees where the two kids were sheltering under. _

_'Sam?'_

_'What?'_

_'You always know what to do.'_

_'Psssh, duh. That's because I'm awesome.'_

_'You always know where to go when things get bad.' She nodded at the rain that was quickly becoming a flood. _

_'Course I do. 'Most everyone knows.'_

"That's impossible," Dewstep told her. "They're all together: Stormpaw, Wolfsong, and Silverpaw. And Wolfsong's a warrior now. The killer wouldn't dream of harming them." Yet there was a catch in his voice and she wanted to ask him, _Yes, but what if? _except she didn't because she figured that it was best not to know the answer.

She felt like crying. There was a rock in her throat that no amount of swallowing could get rid of and she could feel the tears pricking the back of her eyes, and more than anything she wanted to bury herself in Dewstep's fur and cry without any shame. She wanted to pray to heaven and promise them that if they got Sam out of this mess, then she would do anything they told her to do but she didn't because she knew that heaven didn't work that way.

_Help me, Sam, _she thought, and she wondered if even the indomitable, unbeatable Samantha Piper who knew anything and everything, who knew where to go when it rained and who knew how to throw a punch and who knew how to beat up wild dogs also knew how lonely and absolutely empty she felt inside right now. And she wondered, for the first time, if there were some things that Samantha Piper did not know, like what to do out there in an unknown forest a million miles away from home.

No, she told herself. Think. Think of all the one hundred and one ways why the tortoiseshell cat would leave ThunderClan like this. Maybe she got bored and wanted adventure. Maybe someone, one of the other apprentices, forced her to. Maybe she heard a noise and went to investigate and simply did not return. Maybe she was kidnapped. Maybe a dog found her. Or maybe...the lynxes? The lynxes.

No. Their den was in the middle of the clearing, surrounded by all of the other dens so surely someone would find out if they were up to trouble or not.

Shadefrost, even after she came up with a list of reasons, still did not know. Furrowing her brow, she wondered just what else she knew.

_Silence in the rain. The plip-plopping of drops on leaves. _

_'You have to learn how to fight for yourself, too. I can't do everything for you.'_

_'Yes you can. You're Superman.'_

_'Pffft. I don't go around saving people, do I? I beat them up. I'm the opposite of whatever Superman is.'_

_'You saved me, though. At that park. Remember?'_

_'I did it because those boys would kill you as soon as they'd look at you.' At this point, Sam looked at Ashley fully for the first time and stared without saying anything. Ashley felt unnerved, so as she picked at a lose thread on on her jacket she decided to stare back and see which one of them would back down first._

_She saw that Sam's eyes were the greenest green she had ever seen, like the color of slick leaves after the rain. _

_'You ever stop to think what would have happened if I hadn't been there?'_

_'No.'_

_'Well, you should. If I hadn't stopped them, they would've eaten you like vultures.'_

_'Sam!'_

_'Well, they would've. In a parallel universe, you'd be dead right now and we would have never met.'_

_'But you saved me.'_

_'Ah, you big doofus! What have I been telling you? You have to look after yourself because without me, you wouldn't last a second in that park the other day.'_

_'But you saved me.' She smiled._

_'...Yeah.' A pause. 'I guess I did.' Another stretch of silence. Then, 'You trust me that much?'_

_Of course I do, _thought Ashley, thought Shadefrost. And it was true. She had trusted her for years, trusted her to guide her through dark alleyways when they decided to take a shortcut home from school, trusted her when the gangs of unruly boys came to laugh at her.

_You trust me that much? _Shadefrost thought back to that rainy day and remembered the face of Sam when she asked her those words. She remembered almost clearly the widening in surprise in those green eyes and then a glimmer of warmth that said, very clearly, _Thank you. _For what? _For believing in me._

And if Shadefrost had trusted Sam with her life when they were both humans, then Shadefrost could surely trust her still at a time like this.

Testing out the words on her tongue, she hesitantly whispered, "She'll be fine."

Dewstep's ears pricked forward as fast as fly's wings, and even he could scarcely believe what she said. She straightened up her shoulders and hardened her eyes and looked directly at Dewstep and said, "She'll be just fine."

Because if Sam could be tough and brave at a time like this, at a million miles away from home, then surely Ashley could be too. They weren't just talking about any Sam. This was the indomitable, unbeatable Samantha Piper who had eyes the color of oceans and fists of steel and who could shoot out words like bullets that almost always hit their target right on the bull's eye, who could stare down ghosts and grim reapers alike and who had, and who always will be not a mile more out of Ashley's reach.

"Are you sure?"

Shadefrost didn't answer right away. She stared off at the black sky and watched as the first stars came out. She looked at the wide, blurry stretch of the horizon where the sky met the earth and believed with all her heart that the direction she was looking at was where Sam was.

She took a deep breath and when she opened her eyes again, she smiled. "Of course. We don't need to worry." The wind whipped her fur and agreed.

Samantha could pound bones into dust and outrun even the meanest, most devilish dogs. And just a few weeks ago, Death had visited her in the disguise of some WindClan cats and Sam, although she had gotten a beating that almost broke her, stepped out of it with her head held high and unbroken and even now she was still stepping.

Dewstep relaxed. "If you think so."

Would the Clan be safe at a time like this? With the WindClan cats whispering the word _war_ and with a murderer just lurking outside their door? Not very. Yet, she wondered how selfish she dared to be. She stared over her shoulder at the darkening silhouette of the ThunderClan camp and thought about all the memories that she had collected there. She thought about how much she loved all of them, every one of those cats. She thought about how she used to dream about becoming a warrior and for the warriors to be real, and how her dream had come true and she could, at last, hunt with them.

She loved them. Loved them all. Bramblestar and Squirrelflight and Leafpool and Jayfeather and Lionblaze and Cinderheart and-

_Don't worry, _she told the forest, because she felt that somehow the forest knew what she was doing. _It won't take long. I promise._

"Dewstep," the girl and cat meowed loudly. "Don't you feel it's time that I should start giving back?"

"Giving back?" the tom echoed, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Sam was always there for me when I needed her, you know." She laughed.

It took a while for Dewstep to realize it, but when he did, his amber eyes widened so much and he exclaimed in disbelief, "Are you a mouse-brain, Shadefrost?"

"I am!"

"Don't you know how dangerous this is?" he sputtered like he had choked on water and could barely get the words out.

The black she-cat threw her head back and laughed freely into the night air. Bounding away, she called over her shoulder, "Catch me if you can, Dewstep! I'm not coming back until Sam's journey is over."

"B-but I thought you were _upset _that she was gone!"

"Not anymore, I'm not. Because if this is what she wants to do, then I should stand by her just like how she did to me all those years."

"I have no idea what you're talking about! This is madness!" Dewstep sprinted a few paces forward and called back, "Shadefrost!" but he was so far away that the wind easily carried his words away.

She was only a speck in the night, and even as he watched she was gradually growing smaller.

He growled in frustration and clawed at his muzzle, wondering what he should do. What would _Snowstorm_ do? That was a dumb question. Of course the two mouse-brains would run away without a second thought.

Dewstep hesitated and realized that this was reminding him of the old days, back when Snowstorm was alive and they were only apprentices setting out on their adventure toward the mountains to fulfill Ashley's prophecy and save the Clans.

_Dear Snowstorm, _he thought. _Why in the name of StarClan did you leave me to take care of this flea-brain all on my own? _

"We'll have to bring Spottedblaze with us!" the she-cat was singing. "And Scorchpaw too!" but he wasn't listening. Taking a single look back at the camp, he hissed and wondered just how in the world this happened, before finally making up his mind.

He found himself shouting, "Wait up, flea-brain! You're not leaving me behind!"


	28. Chapter 26

CHAPTER 26-Every Time She Closed Her Eyes

_It was on a day like this one, exactly like this. The sky was a solid dark greyish-white, yet there were blue tinges on them that I did not remember being there. I looked up and wondered when the rain would stop. The churning grey blanket of clouds had suddenly sat itself down on top of us and had no intention of leaving anytime soon. But who is 'us'? I wondered. What do these strange dreams mean? Half of the time, I woke up with my heart pounding and sweating all over but with no memory of what my nightmare had been about. _

_On a day like this, it was raining. We were in a jungle, I think. There were green, growing things all around us, uncurling their arms, tilting their faces toward the fresh, everlasting rain that ran down their thick stems down to their roots. I didn't like the rain because there was a kind of melancholy to it as the drops plummeted toward the heavens and disappeared onto the ground. I wanted it to stop. _

It's healthy_, he said. _Do it for them.

_Who? I wanted to ask, but in most of my dreams, my lips never worked. I wanted to turn toward him and look at him. I could sense him being just behind me, always behind me toward my right and always out of sight, but he was there. I felt a certain sadness inside him, and I suddenly wondered if the rain was not rain but were actually tears. _

_I wanted to ask him who he was, and why he was here, and why I was here with him. But most of all, I wanted to ask him why I felt so calm around the feeling of his presence, why it felt like I could hear his voice and had known him for so long that I saw him in my eyes long after I looked away._

_My mouth moved. Who are you? I asked him. I turned toward him and found myself staring into a pair of blue eyes, as blue as an afternoon sky with the sun hanging in the branches of a tree, as blue as robins' eggs, as blue as lavender and like the soft, wayward gurgling of mountain streams. _

_His eyes softened. _I'm exactly where you want me to be_, he said. Something in my chest hurt as if the rain that was not rain but was also my tears, mine and his mingling together._

And the rain pounding down onto the snow today, seeping into the roots and dripping down from the tree tops brought that fragment of a dream back toward me so that I was squinting at nothing in particular, my brow furrowed and trying to _remember, _trying to remember that dream in the jungle and those bright blue eyes that seemed so familiar-

I felt a movement coming from below me and was instantly reminded.

"I want to know more about you," Atlas mused as he stared up out of our makeshift shelter, out at the pouring rain. I scoffed and turned away. "What are you talking about? You already know my name."

The dumb bunny began grooming himself, leaving my question unanswered. For a while, it was only silence in our dry den underneath the twisted roots of a tree, just the scuffling of his fur and our quiet breathing. The rain pounded on the branches, churning the snow and the mud and mixing it together so that everything was a chilly, wet grey slop of soup. The day was reminding me of that dream in the jungle again.

In the silence, I thought about the others back in the Clans. Shadefrost would be worried sick about me by now, but it couldn't be helped. This was something I had to do. And, for the first time in weeks, I allowed my mind to wander back home, back past the wooden door toward the living room and the ever-blaring T.V.

I wondered about my parents. Wondered if they had changed. Were they still messes of themselves, yelling and arguing and slamming doors? I felt a pang of worry but shook it away as easily as raindrops. It was no point thinking about something I couldn't change.

My stomach growled. I turned toward Atlas and asked, "Why haven't I eaten you yet?" It would be so easy to just sink my claws into his fur. He was just a rabbit. Just a single, stupid rabbit. I'd eaten dozens of other rabbits before. Why should this one be any different?

But I knew the answer. Atlas was a rabbit and it was easy to just lean over and snap his neck but I didn't, because out of all the rabbits I had ever met or dreamed of meeting, he was the only one who could talk.

"Lots of reasons, I suppose," he replied to my question, not sounding the least bit afraid. It was because he already knew that I wasn't going to get rid of him any time soon, I thought in annoyance. It got on my nerves, how much he just _knew _things. "The most important reason is because your friends have already gone off to search for food, so there's no point in bothering me. And, second of all, I'm much too stringy. I taste terrible."

I huffed and eyed him as he tidied himself up. First he smoothed out his long ears and reached backward to fluff up his white brush of a tail. He dusted himself off with his paws, humming a little as he did so.

In the few weeks that I had known him, Atlas was odd.

His ears were always twitching, they could never stay still. Sometimes he would glance up at me and give me something like a quick flash of a smile, sometimes when he was thinking he would twirl his whiskers around his paw, deep in thought.

For some strange reason, I always thought of him as a tiny person, a man. Maybe I could imagine him propped up against a couch next to a fireplace, reading through a great big leatherbound book sipping a cup of tea. Maybe he was not a rabbit but a man dressed up in a fur suit. _I'm going insane, _I told myself.

"Are all rabbits like this?" I hissed.

He perked up. "What, intelligent and quick-witted?"

"No, annoying and noisy. Like you. Why are you even with us?"

Instead of answering right away, he tilted his head up to concentrate on the sloped dirt ceiling, as if the answer was up there somewhere. His brow furrowed, searching for an answer, and finally he straightened his ears and replied, "Do you remember, Stormpaw, about the first conversation we had together?"

"Of course not."

"I told you that I needed somewhere to go, somewhere over the mountains. It would be a long trip, and I desired someone to accompany me. Someone brave and mighty to protect me from all the predators. And, it just so happened that you were going in the same direction as I was. So I followed."

I shook my head in disbelief and shoved him a little. "You expect me to protect you? Tough luck. I don't even know you."

He puffed his chest out indignantly, "The reason why I chose you is because-" His eyes suddenly flickered with a quick movement at something on his right. He suddenly let out a shriek that shattered my ears into glass splinters and with a jerk, I quickly shot my paws up to cover them.

"What is wrong with you?" I shouted angrily, only stopping when I saw him hurriedly dragging his dirty sack-of-something across the dirt floor.

"There now," he murmured quietly, unaware of my presence. "Got a little soaked from the rain? Don't worry, I'll move you somewhere drier." He flicked a bit of dirt off of the sack. "I didn't notice until now. I won't let it happen again." His voice was soothing, his black eyes gentle, almost as if he was hushing a wailing child, yet he was dusting off the mysterious sack as if it was his precious treasure.

Like I said, he was weird.

"What in the world is in there, Atlas?"

He shot me a hard look before standing over the bag, as if I'd snatch it away from him. "Something important," he replied, an edge in his voice. "It's not for you to find out."

I eyed it warily, guessing what could be in there and thinking that when he fell asleep, I could take a peek inside. Food? Coins, bottle caps, ribbons, newspaper clippings, old bones or herbs or half-faded souvenirs? I asked hesitantly, "Is the thing in there alive?"

His answer shocked me. "_Alive? _Of course it's alive. Why would I be protecting it if it wasn't?" He glared at me, the tone of his voice rising dangerously as if I had just asked him a very stupid question.

"Are you serious? Great StarClan, throw it away before it crawls out!"

"You blockhead! It's not going to crawl out. It doesn't even move. So why don't you shut up and let it be!"

I blinked and closed my mouth, my eyes round in surprise. Atlas was angry. He was actually angry.

The rabbit's fur was fluffed out and his ears were laid flat against his shoulders. Turning away with a small huff, he tidied up the bag and waited impatiently for the rainwater to dry off it before tucking it off in a far corner of the shelter, away from the rain. He moved as if he was setting a china doll on a shelf, delicately so the slightest movement wouldn't cause it to shatter.

From the way he was acting, it seemed that he had a load of diamonds stashed in that sack. Yet he said it was _alive. _

Silence descended once again in the den under the tree. I heard Silverpaw's snoring and sleep murmurs in the shadows, relieved that she hadn't woken up.

I thought about whether or not to apologize to him as the silence extended and became unnerving. _When will they be back? _I wondered. Len and the others.

Hearing a scuffling noise, I realized that Atlas had returned to stare out at the rain. The clouds dripped over the trees and splashed in ever-widening puddles. We didn't speak, not for a long time.

Then, "I know you, Stormpaw."

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye.

"Samantha Piper, the human."

He had told me that before, yet I still glanced at him in surprise. "I never told you that," I mewed, tipping my head to one side. "How do you know?"

He tapped his head and smiled pleasantly. "I've spent a year living in the city, so of course I should recognize a human as soon as I see one. I am familiar with their habits." He stopped, twitched his whiskers for a bit in thinking, and then, "Do you know why you were sent here? A million miles away from home?"

Did I know? I searched my memories, trying to figure out anything StarClan might have said to me but then stopped in mid-thought when I realized that no, those blasted StarClan cats hadn't told me anything at all. Not one word. Here I was, being sent hurtling into danger and I had been so caught up in the thrill of being a cat that I hadn't realized. I didn't even know what kind of a _prophecy _they expected me to fulfill.

There was a prophecy, wasn't there? There always was.

"I think I may have an inkling," Atlas said, and the way he said it made me whip my head down to stare at him. He refused to meet my gaze, but the edges of his mouth twitched as if he was smiling a little. Whether it was from happiness or nervousness, I couldn't tell.

The rain was thinning out. The ripples in the puddles plopped rhythmically. I waited for him to talk.

"Do you ever wonder, Stormpaw, if the world is bigger than it actually seems? What if, for just one second, anything could happen?"

"What are you talking about, you dumb bunny?"

He stared at me with an almost gentle look in his eyes before sighing. He twiddled his paws together and scooted closer to me and sat down. I let him.

He tilted his head to look up at me and then said, "Do you know the story of how the universe was born?" From the sound of his tone, he could have been discussing the weather or past events. _Dreary day, isn't it, Stormpaw? Harsh rain. You suppose it'll stop soon?_

and

_Do you know the story of how the universe was born?_

I was about to say something sarcastic, but since he was Atlas and Atlas was not like other rabbits, I only shrugged and decided to play along. "Dunno. I don't think so." This conversation just got weirder and weirder. But Atlas, just like how he knew things that no other cat knew, like how I was not a cat but a Twoleg, also understood that I wasn't taking him very seriously. He stood up on his hind legs and tried to grow taller, glaring at me with a hardened look. He searched my face, trying to find something, anything. But what he was trying to see in my eyes, I didn't know. After all, what could he possibly see in the face of a tortoiseshell cat, thin fur and tangled with a lifetime of secrets behind her eyes?

" 'Once upon a time," he murmured, 'so many ages ago, the world was still new and nothing walked upon it.'"

"What?" I blinked.

"Oh, nothing. I was merely quoting from a legend I knew about when I was little. It was about the creation of the earth. Funny, isn't it? They talked about three creators. Yet, in some cultures, there were four or even only two."

I hardened my eyes. It came suddenly like a gale of the wind, like the creaking of branches and the ruffle of raven feathers. Before I knew it, I found myself saying stubbornly, "There were four," with such a hardness and a certainty in my tone, that it felt like I was stating a fact. One plus one always equaled two, and there have always been four beings who had created the earth, just four and not one less.

He perked up. "Oh? Have you heard that story somewhere before?"

Of course I hadn't. I had no idea what he was talking about. But why did it feel like I knew the story, the story about the earth being shaped from a ball of dust? I must have read it before, I must have. Somewhere back at home, it must be sitting in the attic. Maybe my parents read it to me when I was little, so I didn't remember now.

But I knew the story. I knew every single line. And I knew, for a fact, that there were _four _beings, not three or two. I was reminded of the dreams I had, the dream in the jungle and the dream in the desert with the scar in the ground, and the heavy sadness and a someone standing behind me. A someone with deep blue eyes, as deep as oceans and space. That someone spoke with a voice that I felt like I knew so well, yet for the life of me I did know what it sounded like.

_Once upon a time, so many ages ago, the world was still new and nothing walked upon it. _And just like a string unraveling, that single sentence opened a door in the wide, wide room inside my skull. .

_It was only a barren, rocky ball of dirt carved out of mist that floated in the midst of nothingness, traveling downriver on the current to nowhere. Suspended in time. But it wasn't empty. At least, not really. Two beings (_no, I thought stubbornly, shaking my head. There were four of them. Four!_) watched over it, always, and they made the barren earth their home. _

Why did I feel that I was forgetting something, something important? It was as if there was a hole in my memory. I _had _to remember, because I knew that I was forgetting something very, very sad and very, very old.

"Stormpaw?" Atlas was calling my name again. He placed a tiny paw over mine, and for once I did not brush him away. "Are you alright? You seemed troubled." He looked sympathetic. The tiny brown paw looked so small on top of mine.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I flattened my ears, concentrating on remembering. "But...no, I don't know. Atlas, there were _four _of them. I don't know how, but I just know. Can you tell me that story again?"

"Of course, yes. Now let's see, how did it go?"

He talked about an Elder and a Younger, a pair of spirits who came together who create everything in the universe, and how there came a time when they fought and killed the things that they had created with their own hands. And he talked about how they had abandoned the Earth to let it grow on its own.

I was reminded, faintly, of something Len had said, about his own ancestors and about how they once got up and left and never came back again.

As he talked, I felt light-headed. I was trying to reach for something that never came near me, like a butterfly flying upward higher and higher while I chased after it. The dreams...

"Atlas," I whispered, interrupting his sentence. "Why did StarClan send me here?"

He didn't answer me right away. Twitching his whiskers, he stared thoughtfully at the sack in the corner with a faraway expression. His paw pressed gently over mine again.

I was afraid of the answer, because I felt like I knew. But it couldn't be. That was impossible.

Finally, he said as if he knew my fear, "I'm not sure, Stormpaw. Don't worry. You'll find it out as you go." But he _did _know, only he wasn't telling me. And it made my fur prickle in frustration, the way he knew things, the way he was so _sure _of things. He knew something that I didn't.

"Atlas?" I asked again, hating how uncertain I sounded, and scared of something that I didn't know. Was I scared of _myself_?

"Yes, my lady?"

Without thinking, without even knowing where I was going, I asked, "Where do you think they went after the earth fell apart?" He opened his mouth to reply, but instead of his voice another one said:

"Mmph...Stormpaw? Rabbit? Are they back yet?" Silverpaw's murmuring voice, muddled by sleep and exhaustion. She half-padded, half-dragged herself out of the shadows to settle down next to me. Exhaling out her nose, she closed her eyes and propped herself up against my shoulder.

"Not yet," I told her, drawing a tongue around the apprentice's ear to flatten her disgruntled fur. "I'm sure they'll come back soon." What was taking them so long? Len, Wolfsong, and Featherpaw must have been gone hours ago. Did it really take that long to hunt down some prey?

Silverpaw's sleepy grunts reached my ears again. "D'you think we should check on them?" Yet she didn't sound particularly worried.

Yes. We should. Just in case. I turned toward the dumb bunny to ask him about it, and then checked myself. Why on earth was I asking _him? _He was only an annoying little fly, just a tag-along who insisted on coming with us. The Weirdo with his Sack of Something Alive.

Maybe it was because the conversation that we had shared only heartbeats ago. He knew something about me.

"Atlas," I said, and he must have been as startled as I was because his ears twitched a little. Reluctantly, I heaved myself up on all fours. Silverpaw, who had been leaning on my shoulder, collapsed onto the dirt with a muffled noise of protest.

Talking not only to the apprentice but also to the rabbit, I meowed, "I won't be gone long. Atlas, I swear to StarClan that if you let anything happen to her, I'll have your pelt for dinner."

I meant it as a threat, and how could that statement be anything but?

Except that Atlas blinked brightly up at me, twitched his ears, and made a sweeping gesture that was obviously a short bow. "Not to worry, Stormpaw. Silver will be perfectly safe with me." His tone was clear and sincere at just the right places that it seemed impossible for someone like him to lie.

And I felt that, for a reason I couldn't quite name, I could trust him. Because he was a weirdo and a stranger and because I knew practically nothing about him or where he came from or just exactly _why _he needed to get to the mountains, and I wanted to see just what kind of a person he was.

* * *

The sloppy rain/snow squelched between my toes like some kind of grey, lumpy porridge, and every step sent a jolt up my limbs until everything from my wrists down-even though I didn't have wrists, not anymore-were completely numb and chilled.

I detected a trace of Wolfsong's scent in the air and followed it. I let my paws do the running, but my mind drifted away like a fog.

The jungle with the rain. The desert with the scar of canyon carved out onto the sunburned sand. Sky-blue eyes. They could just be normal, nonsensical dreams. But what if they had deeper meanings behind them?

My breath puffed into soft clouds as I ran, and as I thought about those dreams I began to sprint faster and faster, as if I could outrun them and leave them behind me.

A kind of despair seized me and drove me onward. Why the heck was I thinking about this when I should be worrying about my friends? Len and Wolfsong and Featherpaw. They could be dead in the snow right now, torn to pieces by a pack of wild animals. A glimpse of Featherpaw's eyes staring sightlessly into the sky made me gasp, and ignoring the strain in my muscles, the exhaustion in my limbs and the wheezing of my lungs that pleaded, _Slow down, _I only forced myself to move faster.

I was the one who told them to follow me, and they did. They gave up their warm, sheltered lives in the camp to go with me. Did they really trust me that much?

Another scene of Len covered in bloody wounds and of Wolfsong's face frozen into a snarl. Suppose I came too late? Suppose they really were dead and I-

_Rain pelting onto the trees, onto muddied boots and drowning out the terrified cries of two children, the flash of white as a hand rose out from the water to grapple at the air, pleading crying _Help me Help me-

I snarled and snapped at the air before stopping abruptly and realized that it wasn't real. Blinking frantically, chest heaving, I searched at the bare, black trees and tried to reassure myself that it was a flashback and nothing else, it wasn't real.

The sucking water and lashing wind and a high-pitched voice screaming Help me actually _had _been real, but it was only a memory now. A memory that I tried to shake off, but like a hoard of flies it just kept coming back to pester me.

I rarely thought about that day. That day back in middle school when I was fourteen and _he_ was only a year younger than me, which had made things so much worse because I should have been able to save them, I was the only one there except his clammy hand had slipped out of mine and the water sucked him down-

Clenching my eyes shut, I shuddered and closed in on myself, wrapping my tail around myself tightly like a rope. Flexing my toes and unsheathing my claws, I could almost still feel the chill and horror when I felt his fingers enclose around mine, how I had tried to tighten my grip and had cried out in terror when, without any warning, his grip slipped and I could not save him.

_That was years ago, Sam, _I hissed under my breath. _Get yourself together. _I thought I had left that incident behind. It was only supposed to be an imprint, a mark left behind by fire on an oak, buried in the back of my mind. Apparently I hadn't been able to forget it yet.

It was strange. There were memories that I actually _wanted _to remember, like the jungle and desert and the sky-blue eyes. And then there were ones that I desperately wanted to forget like That Day. Why can't I switch them around? Forget That Day and remember the mysterious dreams of the jungle.

"Stormpaw!" I stiffened in surprise. My thoughts scattered like a flock of doves into the sky. The rain was thinning out, the grey clouds in the sky were slowly turning white.

Turning, I was met with the sight of three cats running to meet me. My despair evaporated as easily as the morning mist, and I cried out in relief and joy to see that they were perfectly fine.

"We took a long time, didn't we?" Wolfsong asked, slowing to a stop in front of me. Her blue-grey fur was blown sleek and flat by the wind, and the bottom of her paws and stomach were splattered with a hearty helping of mud and snow. "Sorry about that. But you won't believe what we've managed to bring down."

The muscular, broad-shouldered form of Len strode forward a few minutes later with Featherpaw trotting by his side. The freckled she-cat's head was held high, and she flicked her tail at the thing Len carried as if to say, _Pretty impressive, don't you think?_

My eyes widened in surprise.

Dangling from Len's jaws was a fawn, easily as big as Featherpaw. Its stick-like legs, once graceful and swift and now as stiff as spider legs, drooped downward and couldn't help but drag in the mud. It looked soft, gentle, and the lynx's teeth snagged in its limp neck seemed all too cruel.

But the scent wafting off it was enticing.

"I thought it was some kind of sheep or horse at first," Wolfsong meowed, "But Len explained to me what a deer was." Her blue eyes became round. There was an excited tone in her usually soft voice that almost made her seem like Silverpaw. "You should have seen Len, Stormpaw! He was so skilled at it! The fawn didn't have time to turn around before he was practically on top of it."

Len flattened his ears and scuffled his paws in embarrassment. "It was nothing," he mumbled.

"Um," I said hesitantly. "Can I carry it back?" I wanted to do it because the fawn looked so small against those huge fangs, like a butterfly caught in a spider's web. They all seemed a bit startled, but Len smiled and nodded.

It felt exactly like I imagined it would feel. Soft and smooth and velvety like satin. The warmth had long since left its body and its limbs were now stiff, but the memory of it having once been alive and kicking convinced me to hold it gently, to make sure that my own teeth didn't pierce through its skin and draw blood.

Our pawsteps crackled softly in the snow, and we trekked back in silence. The fawn's back was peppered with white spots like snowflakes. Its eyes were shut tight, but I imagined how they would look; warm and brown and watery. I was glad that Len had killed it because it meant that we would have food for the night, that we would fall asleep with full stomachs and not have to worry about the cold, and I was also glad that it was someone else who had killed it and not me. But the fawn's stiff, cold body brought a sort of melancholy with it like seeing the husk of an insect wrapped in the silver lining of cobwebs, because the fawn had once been alive and it must have a mother, a doe wandering out there somewhere, coming back to where the fawn used to be and not finding her lost child.

I realized with a start that even though I could snap his neck as easily as breaking a twig, I could break his bones as if they were pine needles, Atlas was not afraid of me. He had never been afraid of me, from the moment we had met.

He knew a lot of things, like the secret of me being a human which no other cat knew, and he must also have known that my fangs were sharp and my teeth sharper. _Small rodents like me can sense such things, _he had once told me, and I wondered if he could also see me now with the body of the dead doe cradled against my fangs, holding it but holding it gently like how the rabbit had held his strange sack of something alive.

Silverpaw stared at us wide-eyed as we entered. Len explained, "It's called a 'deer'. There were plenty where I came from..." I left them alone with their talk and spotted Atlas in the corner crouched next to his dusty old bag.

"See?" he told me. "I kept Silver safe. Not even a scratch on her, just like I had promised. We had a lovely conversation while you were gone. She's an interesting fellow; seemed more interested in chatting with me than ripping out my ears like a proper cat. Nice fellow."

I narrowed my eyes. "Why do you trust me so much?"

"Pardon?"

"I could kill you right now. I could rip out your heart. I could pound your bones into a dust, and I could take that precious bag of yours right now and tear it to shreds."

He stiffened for a heartbeat but it passed and he stared up at me with those warm brown eyes of his, and it made me notice how small he was compared to me, and how thin his bones were and how delicate. Like the fawn.

He replied, "You could have done all that the first day we had met, and yet you didn't. I'm still alive. So what are you waiting for?"

I shrugged and plopped down next to him, staring with disgust at my mud-caked paws. Giving them a few licks, I mewed, "You shouldn't trust me. I'm a cat and you're prey."

He lay down with a contented sigh and stretched before collapsing onto the ground. With his eyes half-open and sleepy, he murmured, "You had your chance and you didn't kill me. That's proof enough."

"Rabbit!" Silverpaw called, her voice muffled from the meat in her mouth. Her jaws were dripping with blood. Smiling at us like some kind of adorable little monster, she asked, "You sure you don't want some?"

"I'm fine, dear!" Atlas replied, shrinking back from the carcass that lay sprawled out smack dab in the middle of the floor, blood seeping out from its innards like a broken and fallen pinata. "I'm, uh, full already." He winced.

The disgusted look on his face made me laugh, and the sound was so sudden that I stopped in surprise.

Then I looked down at him and remembered how he had slid his paw over mine and how small and trembling it was compared to my huge claws. I remembered the conversation we had about the Four Spirits who had once walked across the earth, and I remembered the soft, careful way he had held the sack, because inside the sack there was something alive. The rabbit squeaked as I slapped a paw around him and drew him closer to me. "You know what, Atlas?" I mewed. Taking in a deep breath and praying that I wouldn't regret it later, I meowed grudgingly, "I think you can stay."

"That's wonderful news! But what made you change your mind?"

"I decided that from now on, you'll be our emergency food supply."

"What-hey!"

"Just kidding!"

I laughed again and drew my gaze over the warm, make-shift den with the cats close together, sharing the prey and their faces brightly lit and happy. We were safe. There were still miles of danger ahead of us, but for now, we were safe.

* * *

"She's back."

The speaker's voice was soft yet deep, and there was a strength behind it like lightning hidden in the heart of a storm cloud. "Took her long enough." His eyes, narrowed into slits, gleamed in the shadows.

He smiled then, a smile that was almost strange in this land of pipes and grime and rats of where he now resided. The smile didn't look particularly happy, yet there was something in the sight of it that was hard to explain.

"Do you think she missed me?" he asked, the smile vanishing to be replaced with a thin, grim line. A patch of shadow above him moved and flickered like a hidden flame. White feathers fluttered down around them both like petals, silently and looking much too pure for a place like this one.

He tipped his head to one side and tapped his chin, furrowing his brow at the thin strip of light coming from a metal vent that led to the outside world. "Or maybe she forgot me." There was a tone in his voice that made the patch of shadow stop suddenly as if it had been struck. When a few heartbeats had passed, it started scuffling again. More feathers drifted down.

"Ah, well." Opening his wide maw of a mouth, he yawned heartily and stretched, arching his back and swishing his tail behind him. "It'll be quite a dismay if that happens, but I'll find a way around it." He flicked his tail with a quick motion like the flicking of a wrist. Instantly, the patch of shadow froze and listened.

"Take care of the others for me, will you?"

The patch tilted its head to one side and then the other, as if trying to make up its mind. Then it unfurled its wings and took off, disappearing through the narrow slits of the vent. The white feathers ruffled in its wake.


	29. SO SORRY FOR THE ABSENCE

**How long has it been? A year? I'm really sorry about leaving you guys ;;**

**I lost my motivation to keep writing this + life got really weird, but I feel really guilty about making you guys wait this long. **

**I WON'T END THIS FIC YET; I think I'll keep writing as long as there are still people reading this. I probably lost a lot of fans, right? XD Do you guys even remember what this story was even about? **

**Let me know if you still want me to continue this fic, or if I should abandon it. I'm also planning on rewriting some of the other chapters (I'm a bit nervous about rereading this story because of how cringe-worthy my writing was).**

**Thank you so much if you're still reading my works! So sorry for holding back this long! I'll keep on writing as long as people are still interested in reading this!**


	30. Chapter 27-Gone

**Yes, I have risen back from the dead! School is still a nightmare, but I'll try to update again. Also, make sure to tell me if you see any inconsistencies, because it's been a heck of a long time since I last read this story. **

CHAPTER 27-Gone

Scorchpaw closed his eyes and tried to block out the noises outside. Honestly, it was like having a whole flock of ravens cawing right outside your den! He could hear the mingling of their voices like a hodgepodge of chaos, none of them keeping still for even a second. Ivypool was the worst. Even from here, he could still hear her wailing like an owl.

It wasn't like Featherpaw had tried to go out on her own! Stormpaw and Wolfsong and everyone else were with her. At the back of his mind, he recalled the last time they had set out together, almost drowning in the river, and despite his frustration he felt a sharp pang of sadness. Where were they now? What were they doing? More than anything, he wanted to know why they had left.

_You could have woken me, _he thought to Stormpaw. _Why couldn't I go with you?_

"Stop fidgeting," Jayfeather grunted through a wad of herbs. "Do you want me to heal you or not?"

Scorchpaw sighed through his nose and turned away, his ears aching from the clamor outside.

"Honestly, Ivypool is going crazy out there," the medicine cat muttered as he dabbed lightly at the apprentice's still bleeding wounds. "It's like there's a whole fleet of badgers on her tail."

"Be more sympathetic, Jayfeather." Briarlight's voice was chasting. "Featherpaw is her only daughter."

She was cut off by a particularly loud wail from outside, drawing on and on before finally stopping, and she bristled uncertainly before mewing, "I think I'll go check on her."

Scorchpaw tried to drown out the wails with his own harsh breathing. That pained voice brought back day-old memories of snapping teeth, murderous eyes, claws brandished and eager to sink into flesh. A shudder ripped through his spine, sending sharp flickers of pain from his raw gashes. Seriously, how could Stormpaw even _walk _after all that had happened? She should be lying in the medicine cat's den like he was, resting instead of roaming around!

He wondered if his Clanmates knew what had happened. About the WindClan cats, their attempt at revenge for Oatpaw and Hootpaw, whether or not Bramblestar was planning an attack against them already. At the thought of war, his eyes widened and he tried to stagger to his paws, ignoring the spikes of pain.

Jayfeather reared back and hissed, "What are you doing? Stay down!"

He shook his head stubbornly. "I-I have to be ready! How could I rest here when the rest of my Clanmates are preparing to fight?"

"Are you mouse-brained?" Jayfeather protested, shoving a harsh paw at the apprentice in an effort to lay him back down. "Even if there was a battle, there's no way in StarClan that I'll let you go out there."

"No!" He struggled out of the medicine cat's grasp. "What about WindClan? There was Harespring, a-and Nightcloud, and-"

The blind tom began to bristle. "What are you-"

Bramblestar's deep, rumbling voice could be heard distinctly from outside in the clearing, rising above everyone else's. "What? That's impossible! Search every bush and tree!"

Jayfeather lashed his tail. Through clenched teeth, he seethed, "What is it now?"

Scorchpaw was almost glad to see the tom turn away and pad through the opening. The medicine cat swung his head around to glare at the apprentice through sightless eyes, and after spitting out a, "You'd better still be here when I come back!", he slid out the opening and was gone.

Scorchpaw inspected himself. His fur was a complete mess, tangled and ungroomed, plastered with herbs and dried blood. Curling his lip back in disgust, he wasted no time in lapping the grime away.

Once it was clean, seeing his own white-and-brown pelt made him relax a bit. It reminded him that he was still himself, still alive, and if he still had strength in his body then there was no way that a mouse-brained medicine cat could make him keep still and miss out on everything that was happening!

Only, getting up was the hardest part. He strained his muscles, attempting to heave himself up onto all four paws. Apparently, his body wasn't in the mood and insisted on resting. Trying again, he forced himself to stand. His legs were shaking. When he took a single step forward, they almost gave out, but with a triumphant mew he was doing it. Standing on his own.

He could still hear the leader's voice, yelling out orders. For some reason, his voice was tense, worried. Worried about Stormpaw and the other missing apprentices? No, this time, it was different. Maybe there really was an invasion!

He shivered. It just wouldn't leave him. The memory of his blood, mingling with Stormpaw's, impossibly red against the snow. The eyes of those WindClan cats, so utterly depraved, void of any mercy, as hard as stone.

Harespring's jeering leer. _We won't kill you. But as you can probably imagine, Onestar is very furious about this. _

Scorchpaw shook the thought away and raced out of the den, not bearing to be alone for a second later. He had to find Stormpaw! How could she move with those wounds as deep as his? What if WindClan found her again? And Silverpaw was with her too, that small apprentice who'd be flea-brained enough to befriend a fox if she had the chance…

He was greeted with anxious, rising voices, cats dashing to and fro, and panicked faces. He was nearly plowed over by Whitewing, brushed past by Sandstorm, and nearly stepped on by Fernsong. They were all too absorbed in their own thoughts to notice him.

"Wha-What's happening?" he managed to gasp out.

"Scorchpaw!"

He jerked his head over to see Briarlight dragging herself towards him. "What are you doing out of your den?" she demanded.

"What's going on? Is there going to be a battle?"

She shook her head. For a few moments, he felt a wave of relief wash over him, but then was quickly gripped in icy claws.

"Shadefrost and Dewstep have gone missing!" she hissed. "Along with Ember."

This time, fear, stronger than ever, threatened to drown him like the Lake. He could hardly even breathe. More cats were disappearing!. What if...what if the killer really was picking them out, one by one?

He felt the ground rush up from beneath him, and suddenly Briarlight was there, supporting him with a shoulder. "You're still injured!" she gasped. "Now go lie down in the den." Her ears pricked up suddenly and a flash came to her eyes. "That's right! Bramblestar still needs to talk to you! Oh, but he's too busy right now...Squirrelflight will have to do!"

"Talk about what?" Was he in trouble? Of course he was, probably about getting

into a mess again, but how could Bramblestar think of punishing him at a time like this? He had more important things to deal with right now!

All too soon, Briarlight was herding him back in, laying him down onto the moss.

"But I-"

She shushed him and hurriedly sped back outside. He glowered in his nest. His

paws itched to get out there again and help his Clanmates.

Stewing in his thoughts, he didn't notice that a few minutes had already passed. A familiar scent entered the den, along with the crunching of snow underpaw. He blinked and straightened up at once when the Clan deputy stooped to gaze down at him.

Her fur was bristling, he noticed, and her normally sharp green eyes were now dull and concerned.

"Are you fit enough to talk?" she asked him. He nodded, shifting up so that he was sitting.

"Right." Her head drooped, but then she straightened up again and her voice was stronger. "Tell me what happened. Everything. How did you get those wounds? Was it really just a trespassing WindClan cat?" She frowned uncertainly. "Or was it...something else?"

He furrowed his brow. "Weaselfur…"

"Weaselfur is dead." At his look of surprise, she added, "I could tell it wasn't you who killed him. He was lying there with a gash to his neck. Everyone thinks the killer is on the prowl again. I...I don't know what happened."

He waited, but she didn't mention Harespring, or Nightcloud, or Gorsetail. They could have run off before ThunderClan had found him.

Her voice broke into his thoughts. "I just can't imagine how an honorable warrior would unsheathe his claws against two apprentices, even if you and Stormpaw were from another Clan. He could have killed you."

She stopped, obviously wanting him to speak. When he didn't, she shifted her paws uncomfortably. Her ears twitched nervously, and finally she meowed, "Did he...did he say anything to you before he died? Did you see who did it?"

_They wanted revenge on ThunderClan! _But he kept his mouth shut. Telling the true was right, but not always. He was certain that it would unleash a real battle between the two Clans. The truth would leak out sooner or later, but he had to keep a fight from brewing for as long as possible. He stiffened as a thought snaked into his mind. But if he didn't tell her now...what if another cat got hurt? If Bramblestar didn't act fast, would WindClan be daring enough to strike again?

"You're tired," the deputy meowed. He flinched. Was his worry that obvious?

"It's alright, Scorchpaw." She sounded tired herself. "Just rest for now. We can discuss it later."

As he watched Squirrelflight leave, his claws dug into the moss. _No! We have to discuss it now!_

So many things were going wrong, with WindClan, with his friends, and now Shadefrost was missing too. When he was certain that the she-cat had gone, he hurried out before anyone noticed him.

At this point, his whole body was throbbing. His left hind leg jerked every time he moved it, and after a while he could only move by limping. But there was one place that he hadn't checked. He was sure that no one had bothered to.

The den was quiet and dark inside. It almost seemed empty, but he knew better from the overwhelming scent of musk and of some land far, far away. As he neared, he hesitated. The hairs on the back of his neck rose as a hint of fear sparked in his heart. _No. _He pushed it away. He had to find out for himself.

Slowly, Scorchpaw limped his way closer and stopped at the opening.

Gathering up his courage, he called, "Hello?"

No reply. But he thought he saw something move.

"I'm coming in now."

He crept closer, paused again. This time, Scorchpaw held his breath as a pair of yellow-green eyes met his own. They flashed and seemed to smolder with an inner fire. For a long while, no one said anything.

As strong and as fierce as he could, Scorchpaw looked the lynx in the face and asked, "Do you know where my friends went?"

No reply. Just that unnerving gaze, as strong as rock, sharp as needles. What was his name again? Ahote?

"Can you understand me?" Scorchpaw tried again. His hopes were raised when the lynx flicked an ear and shifted, but then it disintegrated like ice into a puddle as Ahote only moved to turn away and disappear deeper into the den.

If only he could find Len…

Carefully, he tasted the air but found no trace of blood or of the scents of the apprentices. Maybe the lynxes hadn't been the culprit.

He just couldn't believe that Shadefrost had been the one to vanish. She was the Guardian, wasn't she? Shouldn't she be strong enough to fend off anything that threatened her? According to everyone else, she was one of the most powerful cats to have ever lived.

They weren't dead. Not her, not Dewstep, or Silverpaw, or Stormpaw, or any of the others. A small voice told him that. Instinct did. And if there was even the slightest chance of them being found again, he wanted to be the cat who did it.

Every step he took made his pelt feel like it was set on fire. He limped heavily, his mind was groggy, and the back of his throat was dry like he had swallowed sand. But he could still walk. And if Stormpaw could do it, then so could he.

Scorchpaw made up his mind. He stalked around the den, far from the Clearing and the bustle of his Clanmates, over to where the wall of gorse curved around the camp. _It won't take long._

He nosed around the thorns.

_I promise._

Detecting a weak spot in the barrier, he quickly began digging the gorse out, ignoring the scratches as they dug into his paws.

_I'll come back._

Once the plants were free, he tested the small, cat-sized opening he had made. Then, carefully, he eased himself through.

_Please understand._

Halfway through, the thorns dug into his pelt like claws. Panic surged through him. He kicked his back legs, struggling to free himself. A few tufts of white fur came away as he jerked forward, sliding past and panting at the other side. The sound of birdsong tickled his ears. A cold wind wailed past, sending up flurries of snow.

_I have to find them. I have to make sure they're safe. _


	31. Chapter 28-Trust Fall

CHAPTER 28-Trust Fall

Pounding rain, sleet, hail. Freezing paws. Claws where my claws shouldn't be, driving into me, needle-like, hanging off my whiskers in ice. We were practically flying. The slippery slush of rain and snow, blinding, as cold as the jet-black sky. All at once, everything was turned white by a serpent cracking apart the heavens, a boom like a lion's roar, and then the world was plunged into darkness again. It was as if the earth was letting loose all the power it had to drown and freeze the trees. A terrible storm.

I was worried. Not about the rain or lightning, but about Ashley and everyone else back at home. Were they thinking about me? Were they getting along with the lynxes? Did they think I was dead?

Strangely, even though the thunder tore up the clouds and the water made my pelt stick to my skin, I felt oddly calm. Like I was safe, though I wasn't, like this rain was a cocoon and I was shielded within it.

"Stormpaw! Slow down!"

I barely heard her over the sounds of the wind wailing back and forth. Turning, I stopped to let the others catch up. Wolfsong skittered over the slippery, icy ground, her legs wobbling, looking so much smaller because of her drenched fur. Len was carefully loping with her, helping each other in case they slipped. Featherpaw followed after. Silverpaw came last. I couldn't see Atlas anywhere, but took a wild guess and flicked my head toward my right. Just sensed it.

He sprinted out the bushes right where I thought he would, the sack on his back soggy and drenched.

"Are we going to keep at it like this for the rest of the night?" he asked, coming to a stop beside me.

I was surprised. "Well, duh. I want to get to the mountains as soon as I can."

"You're crazy if you think you can travel in this weather!" It was Atlas who spoke, but it was Featherpaw who rushed out at me from the darkness and blocked my way.

"Hey!" I protested, but she flattened her ears and narrowed her eyes at me, nodding her head upward.

I tilted my head up to watch the skies. Fat rain drops pelted my face and ran down my whiskers. And then I saw the others, Wolfsong with her fur plastered to her legs, making them look like twigs, Silverpaw shivering, Len's waterlogged pelt dragging him down.

But we were making so much progress. At Featherpaw's cross glare, I relented. "Fine."

The snow was a soup of brown mush. We skidded over the soggy terrain, paws soaring. The dark seemed to get darker.

The trees stretched longer and taller against the pitch blackness, towering above us. There wasn't enough cover anywhere, not underneath the spreading branches, no dip or hollow in the mushy snow that could be turned into shelter. So we kept going. It felt strange. Every time Featherpaw slipped, I would rush to her side. Her eyes were half-closed in exhaustion, she was breathing hard, and every step she took was heavy. So was everyone else's. They were all tired. So why wasn't I?

It was cold. At least, it must be. Or maybe I was just too numb to feel it. I bounded ahead of everyone else, scouting the unfamiliar land. The bushes began to get thinner. Trees thinned out. Another crack of thunder that lit everything up into a brilliant white, and for an instant I was standing on top of the slope, the bottom curving and rolling sharply out from underneath, and beyond that, nothing but a vast plain of white.

I saw Featherpaw's wide, frightened eyes a moment too late. Then a sharp squeal, Atlas's exclamation of, "Silver!", and then a blurred flash of gray fur slide past me.

I didn't think. It was only instinct. I couldn't even see her in the darkness, nothing except the blue tint of her eyes and a movement, but, for some reason, _knew _she was tumbling down to my right. Reached out, craned my neck, parted my jaws and in an instant, felt a flurry of relief as I clamped down on her tail, holding her tight. Then a stab of fear, as sharp as a knife. I could feel the ground loosen up beneath my paws like clay, felt it soften and come apart, and with a loud yowl, I let go and we slid downward.

"Mudslide!" Atlas shouted.

My paws scrabbled for a firm grip and felt nothing but the slippery slope. It was like trying to stand up on ice, and I was moving so fast that the trees grew into nothing but a black blur. Through the nothingness, I spotted Silverpaw's dark pelt streaking below me. Her eyes were wide, her jaws open.

The bottom of the slope was rushing up to meet us. I gasped, thrashed my limbs harder. Mud spurted between my claws. Out of the darkness came something long, something that was growing closer by the second, and before I realized it, the fallen tree had slammed into me full force. The air was knocked out of my lungs. All of a sudden, the touch of the ground disappeared beneath me as I was thrown through the air. No time to cry out or even breathe. Then my bones were jarred, my teeth clacked within my skull as I came tumbling down again, the rain blinding me and filling my ears and mouth. Through the dizzyness, I thought I saw Silverpaw sliding through a few feet in front of me. Or maybe I couldn't see her, but I could definitely feel her somewhere nearby. It was like the feeling I'd get when I got soap in my eyes in the shower, when I couldn't see anything but could almost imagine a ghost of someone standing in front of me, how I would rub my eyes frantically in the water so I could see again and make sure that I was still alone. I was moving frantically now, not pressing my claws against the slope to stop myself, but forcing myself to slide faster, because Silverpaw was right in front of me and I knew that she would hit the bottom at any moment. My eyes were blinded by the mud and rain, but through the thunder I heard her frantic breathing coming up to my right. I lunged for her. Felt her fur beneath mine. Then, suddenly, as soon as I touched her, our limbs tangled and we fell through the storm together.

It didn't take long. I shifted my weight so that she was on top, and broke our fall. The ground thudded. Then a crack of whiteness, as bright as lightning, and a light ringing in my ears.

The next thing I knew, Wolfsong was standing above me, her face stricken with worry. It took a while for me to realize that she was yelling my name.

Jerking forward, I heaved myself upward, only to have a streak of pain run down my leg.

"Don't move!" she demanded. "Keep still!"

When the cloud of pain finally cleared, I saw that we were at the bottom of the hill. There were lines in the mud from where Silverpaw and I had plummeted. The trees and bushes had cleared away, leaving a white field, laden with snow, to surround us.

Len sniffed me and flattened his ears. "Stormpaw!" he gasped. "Your old wounds have not even healed yet! Are you sure we should keep going?"

I nudged him away and whispered,"I'll be fine."

In truth, my head was throbbing and my left leg was scraped up, but nothing felt broken.

But then I remembered. "Silverpaw!"

Through the darkness, I could make out the lean form of Wolfsong. Her head was bent down, she was licking the mud off something. Ignoring the shrieking of my body, I forced myself to move.

"I...Is she...?"

I huddled next to the warrior. Wolfsong kept licking the motionless form, her ears laid flat against her head. I heard Atlas hop along next to me, but didn't turn my head. All I could see was her small body lying broken on the ground, her eyes closed, her light tabby pelt mingled with mud…

Wolfsong grunted and reared back when Silverpaw's eyes suddenly snapped open. Shaking her head furiously as if her ears were filled with snow, she got up on shaking paws and staggered a bit, her eyes unfocused

"Woah," she quivered. "I feel dizzy." Her gaze locked onto mine.

"Stormpaw!" she gasped. She sauntered her way over to me and said, in a very serious voice,"Stormpaw, can we do that again?"

Once I got over the initial shock and the feeling that something inside me had grown wings and flew away, I unleashed all of my fury and exclaimed,"You're telling me that you want to climb all the way up there and go down it again?! Why on earth would you-"

"Aww, but it was fun!"

"Maybe I'll claw your ears off, see how much fun that would be!"

Len was horrified. "Stormpaw! I can not let you claw off Silverpaw's ears, no matter how-"

"I was joking, mouse-brain!" I snapped.

"That wasn't a very funny joke, Stormpaw," Silverpaw replied, looking very serious and very hurt.

I was beginning to wonder whether or not I should actually scratch off one of her ears for good measure, when luckily I was interrupted by Featherpaw.

She tapped my shoulder with her tail and pointed off into the distance.

Wolfsong was already walking off into the field, leaving a line in the snow from where she had trodden.

"Hey!" I called. "Wait!"

I tried to heave myself up to my paws, but twinges of pain made me fall back down again. When she didn't turn her head or reply back, my anger was replaced with worry.

Silverpaw was quicker. She streaked past me, dodged a few boulders with nimble leaps, and quickly she was through the snow to make it to her sister. Len blinked kindly down at me. "Would you like me to carry you?"

"I can walk," I insisted, before Atlas glared at me and replied,"Absolutely not."

Even when I shot him a look, he folded his arms against his chest and said,"You're obviously hurt. There's no shame in letting Len give you a ride."

"I said I can walk."

"Don't you want to catch up to Wolf?" He eyed me pointedly.

I sighed, but didn't fight when Len reached down to grab me by the scruff of my neck and gently haul me over his shoulder. I was surprised to see so much space. Curling up into a tight ball, the needles of rain drove into me as he ploughed on through the snow.

We caught up, eventually. They hadn't gone far. Wolfsong was waiting for us, but when we arrived, she got up and continued moving. Silverpaw only stared glumly down at her paws and didn't move.

"What's wrong now?" I huffed.

The thunder drowned out her words. I had to lean in close.

"She hates me now," she pouted.

"Yeah, well, it didn't really give _me_ a nice feeling either when I saw you lying on the ground."

She flicked her tail and growled,"Then she should have tried it too! It really was fun!"

"Don't do it again."

"It was an accident. "

There was a pause when we both grew silent to watch Wolfsong walk farther and farther away. Even in the night, I could clearly see the way her ears were laid flat against her head, as if the shock still hadn't left her.

After a while, Featherpaw broke free from us and scampered after the sullen warrior.

"It was an accident," Silverpaw said again, stronger this time. After another pause, she lowered her head and scuffled her paws. "She said that if you hadn't broken my fall, then I really would be dead," she added quietly.

"Yes, she's right. Just make sure you don't die next time," I hissed, and said to Len,"Let's go."

"Wait, Stormpaw!" she called. _What is it this time? _"You're not hurt, are you?"

I was prepared to hiss back another retort, but the question was unimaginably gentle. My eyes softened.

Gruffly, I growled,"No. Let's get moving already."

Her eyes brightened up again. With one pounce, she clambered on top of the lynx's back to settle down next to me. At her cue, Atlas followed.

"Hey! This isn't a Lynx Express. You guys can walk."

"Hmm," was the only response that Atlas gave. He cast me a sidelong look with his eyes and began to groom himself. Len chuckled as he surged forward, plunging into the night.

His powerful paws pounded against the slushy snow.

"Over here!"

He tossed his head around, looking for the voice, before a bolt of lightning lit up the clearing.

In an instant, before the light died down again, I saw something wide and looming in front of us. A house, I realized. But there was something wrong with it.

Wolfsong and Featherpaw were waiting for us at the front of it. The grey furred warrior greeted me with a nod of her head, and without another word, disappeared inside it.

"Is it empty?" I asked, my eyes widening.

Featherpaw waved her tail and gave me signs. _Scent's stale,_ she told me, before bounding and disappearing within.

I saw the house clearly for the first time. The door was open and much too wide, big enough for a trunk to pass through. The house itself was tall and lumbering, and I could make out dried, cracked flakes of paint peeling from the oaken walls. Parts of the roof was caved in, and Featherpaw was right; the scents of mingled hay and rats were stale. But this wasn't a house. It was a barn. A pretty ancient one too. Around us, I could make out bits and pieces of dilapidated wooden fences, as if a giant had torn it down and flung them around.

"Come on, rabbit!" Silverpaw chirped. "I'll race you!"

They darted around and disappeared. Len ventured no closer than the doorway and stopped.

Whiskers quivering, he asked me,"Are you sure that it is safe?"

"Uh-huh," I said, but something was off. Why would a random barn just show up in the middle of nowhere? There weren't any signs of anything else, at least not for miles and miles.

"Hold on, Len," I mewed. "Can you scent anything out of place?"

He raised his nose to the air. "No," he meowed. He twisted his neck around to look at me. "Are we in danger?"

"No, it's just that…" I pricked my ears up. I thought I had heard something beyond the roar of the pounding rain.

"Wait, there's something over there! Just to your left! Keep going, Len!"

"Are you sure…" his voice trailed away as he came upon a smudge of blackness against the snow, just some yards away. We neared it. The smudge grew wider and wider still, like a growing snake. Eventually, the band of black stopped moving and Len paused at the edge of it, gazing out toward it with his ears forward and cautious.

A road. A pretty long one, winding up and around and extending from both ways. I couldn't see the end of it. It stretched off and disappeared into the foggy distance.

"What is this?" Len whispered, and leaned down to give it a whiff. Right as he moved, he shot his head back up and froze. A low growl sounded, far away. Deep enough to make the ground vibrate. I could feel his muscles, rigid, beneath me. His hackles began to rise.

"Step away, Len!" I exclaimed.

"What is…" he asked, but it was as far as he got before the growl drowned out the rain, even the thunder, gaining and growing louder and heading right toward us. Two monstrous, glowing yellow eyes appeared out of the gloom. Len gave a frightened yowl and jumped backward, almost flinging me off his back. The eyes grew bigger, the roar grew louder, and as the truck whipped past us, it belched a hot breath that stunk of acrid smoke and soot. Its wheels ground against the wet snow, and right when it arrived, it was gone again, humming along into the darkness. At length, even its growling grew dimmer and dimmer until it vanished.

Len was shaking. I dropped down from his back and cautiously asked, "Len…?"

The lynx whipped his head down to gaze at me with wide, scared yellow-green eyes. "We have to warn Wolfsong and the others!" he cried. "It is not safe here!"

"Len, it's okay!"

"Huh?"

"I know what it is!"

I limped over onto the road, ignoring his protests, and felt the roughness of the tar for the first time in a long while. Squinting, I tried to peer off into the foggy distance, but the rain swallowed up the rest of it. Still, a flicker of excitement stirred in my chest.

"What is it, Stormpaw?" he asked.

"The city," I breathed. My eyes sparkled. "We're going to the city!"


	32. Chapter 29-Miles Away From Home

CHAPTER 29- Miles Away From Home

I awoke to warm sunlight in my face and the scent of lynx on my tongue. Len was curled up around me like a scarf. His thick coat was as snug as a fireplace, better than any sweater. For a moment, I rested, hovering between awake and asleep and half pressing my nose against his gray flank. Without warning, all of my drowsiness was suddenly replaced with a sense of fear that made my chest tighten.

A harsh, quaking sound like the laughter of crows. I leaped to my feet, my fur puffed out. As the sound continued, I pricked my ears forward and peered around the motionless form.

Featherpaw. I mewed a greeting, surprised. She began to raise her tail to signal back, when all of a sudden, another coughing fit seized her. I winced. It sounded hoarse and deep and sputtering, as though she were hacking her lungs out. Rushing to her side, I stood over her as she coughed, my eyes wide and panicked, my mind drawing a complete blank.

I thought for sure that she was dying.

As if she heard what I was thinking, the coughs left her at last, breathless and quaking, and she turned and faced me with wet eyes and a cross look that almost seemed to say, _What? No need to fuss over me like a little lost kit. _

Yeah, she was right. I should just leave the mother hen act to Ivypool.

Still, I couldn't help but notice her making a small, whistling noise every time she exhaled.

Tentatively, I crept forward and asked,"Do you need water?"

She shook her head.

The great mountain of fur suddenly began to shift. A loud yawn, followed by two yellow-green eyes groggily blinking open.

"Len?" I asked. "Where's everyone else?"

"Hmm?" He arched his back and stretched. "You do not remember? You fell asleep so I had to carry you. Do not worry, I left my scent mark behind so the others could follow and catch up to us. Although it seems that Featherpaw already has."

She waved her tail at him in greeting.

Rubbing the grit from my eyes, I answered,"Oh yeah, there was that road." I looked around. "Where did it go?"

As if in reply, a low rumble came from the undergrowth. Featherpaw leaped back, bristling.

"Don't worry," I told her. "It won't hurt us."

They followed me as I crept toward the noise, even though Featherpaw still didn't look convinced.

The road cut a path through the glittering snow like a black snake. Ice glittered on its surface. As we watched at a safe distance away, a silver car zoomed past us, the ice cracking beneath its wheels, followed by a second, smaller one. Then silence. Their engines died down into the distance and disappeared.

The white she-cat wrinkled her nose and looked at me, the tip of her tail twitching.

"Oh, come on Featherpaw, it's not so bad. Your mountains are up north, right Len?"

"Yes," he said uncertainly. "But my group had taken a different path."

"The road still leads the same way. It might even be a shortcut." I wanted to see the city again. The sight of the lonely road had stirred up half forgotten memories of lemonade clinking in glasses, afternoons spent loitering in front of the burger shop and of bubblegum wrapped in cellophane. My paws itched.

"If you are sure..." He quickly took off at a steady trot.

The two of them flinched every time a car roared past, but I was too busy to worry. When a vehicle rushed past us, I craned my neck upward, hoping that I could catch a glimpse of things inside. Once, I saw a bobblehead figurine hanging out within the windows, a stuffed toy, pillows or what might be a small plastic Christmas tree stuffed in the back. And always the blurred heads of people, but too obscured to make out their faces.

Only when I saw a little kid peering out of the window in a back seat did I realize that I was homesick. In the few seconds that passed us, she caught sight of me and placed her palm against the glass in what might have been a wave. Then the car sped up and left me behind in the dust.

There was a lump in the back of my throat that I couldn't get rid of no matter how much I swallowed. How could Ashley stand it all those months she had been here?

Featherpaw brushed past me, but there wasn't any annoyance or resentment when our pelts touched. She blinked out of sorrowful, green eyes. _What's the matter? _

"Tired," I mumbled. "My leg's sore."

Silence. And then, _Do you want to go back?_

I crinkled my eyes at her. "Are you kidding?" I laughed. "And be stuck doing apprentice chores all day? Nah, I don't want to go home."

I want to go home, I thought.

'_Course you don't, _the monster gurgled from where it hid in my bones. _You're still running away._

Some days, it was only a flea nibbling on the inside of my ear, easily forgotten. Other times it grew as big as a boulder. Today, the monster was only an ant, barely sizing up to a whisper, so I easily ignored it.

I sensed a stirring nearby even before I saw it, but it was Featherpaw who darted forward, quick as a fish.

She emerged triumphantly with a dead vole in her jaws. Her eyes twinkled.

I nodded eagerly. "Good thinking, Featherpaw! We'd better catch some for Wolfsong and the others. Come on, Len!"

I laughed and joked along with the others, but really, there was a stone growing in my chest, cold and deep and melancholy. I wish Ashley were here.

She'd know what to do.

The sun was floating in the middle of the sky. The road had been mostly straight, only veering off over bumps or ridges, but now it began to curve ever so slightly.

Under the covering of snow, the ground grew rocky. Eventually, we saw boulders poking out of the whiteness, and gradually the trees disappeared until the road was following a cliff. It might have been a small kind of mountain, but the path was still wide enough for both the cars and I to pad through.

I scanned the bottom of the cliff. The ground veered sharply down as if a dragon had opened its mouth and bitten a chunk off the side of a hill. Although the ground beside the road was sparse, numerous scraggly trees and logs hugged the bottom of the slope. I imagined myself falling down it and winced.

There were so many sharp rocks and sticks, I'd be bruised halfway through. Whose idea was it to build a road here, anyway?

"Do not stay too close to the edge, Stormpaw," Len called.

I broke away and clambered after him.

Eventually, we came to a point where we were too tired to go any further. Good thing it was the middle of the winter, or I'd be baking like an egg.

"Do you think Wolfsong's almost catching up to us by now?" I asked.

Len reassured me,"They are probably just around the corner."

The side of the cliff was a lonely place where nothing was supposed to bristle, but even so, there were so many rabbits around, more than I'd seen in a day, hopping along and ignoring the stench of the cars, even ignoring me. Until I made a lunge for one. Then something inside them seemed to snap, and all of a sudden they were swarming and veering to avoid the unexpected predator.

"Woah!" I called. "Look at them scramble!"

A few dashed off into the trees. The rest ran blindly around me. I swiped at them, chased them around and almost got close enough to nab one.

Out of the corner of my eye, Len suddenly stiffened. His nose was pointed toward the sky. I opened my mouth to ask him what was wrong, but he lifted an ear, warning me to keep silent. Even Featherpaw looked concerned.

I followed his gaze. And held my breath. Because over by the trees, some yards away, was a beautiful, slender doe. It was busy stripping the bark off a birch, but its ears were constantly swiveling. The soft snow blended into its soft hide until it looked almost like a part of winter. Up until now, I had never seen one up close.

Len, slowly, began to crouch down until his belly brushed the snow. Then he crept forward, inch by agonizing inch. A snail could have outrun him.

He kept his gaze fixed on the doe. Brought one paw forward, then the other, creeping his way toward it. The only sound he made was the soft crunching of the snow. I held my breath, afraid that the doe could hear the air pass through my lungs.

_You can do it! _I thought, wishing that he would be able to hear my thoughts. All the time he had spent growing up, believing that he was the runt of his group, but now he could finally prove himself.

The thought flitted through my mind. He was doing it! By now, he was already halfway across the snow.

At one point, the deer stopped and turned its head toward him. He froze. I froze.

I could see her breathing mist into the cold noon air as it watched the stiffened lynx. Her ears swiveled, but other than that, she didn't move.

She snorted, tossed up her head. When Len still didn't react, she finally turned away, satisfied.

Only then did he start stalking again. I released my breath and breathed.

I almost expected him to pounce-he was so close-but he continued on stalking.

_Come on!_

Then he stopped and stood still. He looked uncertain. Turned to peer back at me. Green eyes met green, and I nodded slowly. The muscles in his shoulders tense. He tightened his hind legs, preparing to spring.

The doe turned once again to see him. This time, she looked less certain. Lifted one foreleg up, pricked her ears warningly, but before she could do anything else-

He pounced. The snow exploded from underneath his powerful legs, sending white powder flying everywhere. I saw him as a mottled blur, saw the doe halt for one second. If she had lingered for a second more, then teeth would have met her neck, but a loud, low humming of engines brought her away.

She sprang up and seemed to dance. In a long, bounding and leaping of skinny legs, she flew over the white snow unscathed.

I made a noise of frustration, low in my throat, and before I knew what I was doing, took off after it.

"Stormpaw!" Len called, but I ignored him. Instead, his voice only brought a tremor of anger surging through my veins. It wasn't fair!

It wasn't fair that his brother was dead, that he had to leave his home and come to the Lake only to leave again, how he was cast out because he was different, because he wasn't as heartless and savage as the rest of them.

_It just wasn't fair!_

The doe's tail was raised up like a white flag. Its haunches were just a few inches out of reach. I wasn't focused on anything else, not the fire burning in my lungs nor my legs screaming in protest as we streaked through the snow. Nothing mattered except for the doe.

I sensed something large and bulky coming at us at sixty miles per hour, eighty. I sensed it even before I saw it, an alarm going off in my brain, but by then I was too far gone to turn back.

Several things happened at once.

Brakes squealed as the wheels desperately tried to scrabble for a hold on the slippery ice. They grated my ears. Right in front of me, the doe froze, legs taut and flanks heaving. Then came the ugly, deafening thump as it collided full on.

The deer might have still been alive, but I didn't notice, didn't care, just stood there with my hackles blazing and my face frozen in fear.

After the deer, the car tried to go left but ended up skidding over the patch of ice, straight toward me. Brakes squealed, brakes broke. For a flash of a moment, I caught sight of the driver through the window, the steering wheel a blur, his eyes wide and his mouth open in a yell.

At the last second, the car veered sharply past me, close enough so that my whiskers touched. I could smell the car's hot breath as it washed over, its rumble as deep as thunder.

It spun, out of control, and finally stopped when it had nowhere else to go, teetering, half in and half out of the edge of the cliff.

Its front wheels whirled through nothing but air, while the back ones ground helplessly against the edge of the road.

I snapped out of the terrified trance, broke into a run and screamed," No!"

The car lingered for a few moments more. Then, it began to fall.

I reached it just in time to see it plummet. Heart lurching, a sick feeling in my stomach, I peered downward and saw it as a streaking metallic blur, its wheels still turning, still desperately trying to keep a hold on the ground.

It bumped a few boulders and flew several inches, until a log crashed into it and brought it back down. It kept tumbling, skidding down the cliff, through the snow. Maybe it would never stop. Finally, with one big resounding crash, it broke through a thicket of poplars and slammed full force into the trunk of a pine. Stayed there. Stopped moving. The engine gave one final wheeze and died.

And then all was silent again in the cold, frosty afternoon. I didn't move, still staring wide eyed at the wrecked beast, still not believing what had happened.

Took one step forward. Then another. I broke into a run.

The cliff veered sharply downward as I half-slid down it like a slide. Rocks, hidden beneath the snow, cut into my paws but I ignored them.

Panting, I skidded to a halt next to the car. Was afraid to look. My stomach twisted into knots. I wanted to vomit.

The wheels were half-buried in a drift of snow. The windows were broken, covered in spiderwebs of cracks. Its sides were dented, one of its side doors now slightly open, for the impact had broken the lock.

The front suffered the most damage. It was a mangled mess of wires and steel and glass, the smell of smoke tinged with its gnarled open pine that it had crashed into had cut a deep wound into its hood, as jagged as ripped paper, nearly splitting the metal in half.

I waited, my heart thudding wildly, hoping that something inside the vehicle would move. Nothing did. Everything was still.

Len called for me again, way far off. His voice sounded like the whispering of the wind.

Slowly, I crept forward. Wondered if I should peer inside. At the sight of a smear of blood on the cracked window, I drew back with a small gasp.

No, I couldn't go back yet! I had to help!

Pushing away the nausea crawling at the back of my throat, I steeled myself and pressed closer.

Standing up on my hind legs, I tried to reach the door handle. I clenched it in my teeth, gagging at the stench of leaking gasoline, and pulled. Was surprised to feel it give way and creak open as easy as anything, the door as loose as a nail and barely holding together.

It swung open behind me.

The smell of blood was stronger now, almost overwhelming.

Through the shadows of the car, I could make out a figure in the driver's seat. It was slumped over on the steering wheel, unmoving.

With a small cry, I reacted and moved toward it in a single leap. "Hey!" I meowed. "Get up! Say something!"

I placed my paws on it and shook. I was surprised to feel something wet, and drew back to see my paws covered in blood.

Even as I watched, the patch of red on his jacket kept growing. Panicked now, I drew closer and pressed my paws against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

"Stormpaw!"

I reared backward in fright, his voice impossibly loud.

Len appeared next to the open door.

"Stormpaw!" He hissed. "Get out of there!"

I only stared at him. The fear in my eyes shut him up.

Shaking my head, I whispered, "Help me!"

Len lingered, and then made up his mind. Cautiously, he padded into the car. It creaked under his weight.

"Hurry!" I snapped. The blood continued to ooze through the shirt, no matter how hard I pressed.

He craned his neck and gently nosed the slumped figure. The man didn't move.

When the lynx turned to look at me, I knew even before he said anything. But I couldn't give up!

"Get up!" I meowed, shaking the man's shoulder harder. "You have to get up!"

"Stormpaw," Len mewed quietly.

_Shut up!_

"What's going on?" Wolfsong's voice made me snap my head up in surprise. She was panting a good distance from the car.

"Both of you! Get out of the monster!"

I turned and hopped out, but then began to run back up the hill.

Wolfsong shouted my name.

I ran as fast as the wind, skimming the ground and leaping over any hidden rocks under the snow that I couldn't see but could sense were there.

Unsheathing my claws, I hauled the rest of the way past boulders. Desperation made my heart soar, feeling as if I had grown wind. I felt light-headed. My heart pounded like drums in my ears. _No, no, no! _I thought. This couldn't be happening! This had to be a dream!

Silverpaw, Atlas, and Featherpaw were by the road. Featherpaw was pacing anxiously in a circle. Silverpaw and the rabbit perked up when they saw me. I veered past them, ignoring their questions, and eyed the road.

A car came rushing past. "Hey!" I yowled. Then, louder. "Hey!"

I dashed onto the road, feeling the rough tar bruise my paws.

At the top of my lungs, I hollered, "Help! Wait, stop! Please!"

The car streaked past just inches from me, the hot air almost knocking me backwards.

Behind me, Silverpaw shrieked, "What are you doing?"

There was a low rumbling of engines as two more cars appeared, one after another. This time, I dashed in front of their path. Surely, they could see me now?

The breath was driven from my lungs as a dark gray blur knocked me off my paws. _Wolfsong! _

She fastened her teeth in my scruff and tugged me out of the way, right as the vehicles passed us with a deafening roar.

I shoved her away and yowled, "What was that for?"

Her blue eyes widened. "Are you trying to kill yourself?" she demanded. "What were you doing, dancing on the Thunderpath?"

The fire smoldering in her eyes made me forget my own anger. Instead, cold, raw fear spiked my insides.

"There-there has to be something we can do!"

Len emerged from the bottom of the cliff. I rushed toward him.

"We have to do something!" I cried. "He's hurt!"

Len replied bluntly, "He is dead."

I reared backward and unsheathed my claws. "It's my fault this happened!" I hissed. "I chased the deer onto the road. I can't let him die!"

"Stormpaw," Len said, much more gently this time, but I flinched away when he tried to touch his nose to my forehead.

I made a mad dash toward the wrecked car again. Wolfsong surged forward and blocked my way.

"Stop it!" I cried, but not out of anger, my voice not as loud as before. My legs trembled.

"There is nothing you can do for the Twoleg now," she murmured.

I shook my head desperately. Stupid! I was stupid! Why did I have to go and take off after the deer? Why hadn't I seen it coming?

I trembled even harder now. Wolfsong held me close. I breathed in her scent, clenched my teeth and buried my face into her fur.

"It's alright, Stormpaw," she whispered sympathetically.

"He was only a Twoleg," Silverpaw offered helpfully.

At this, an ember seemed to fan in my chest. Something closed painfully around my heart.

I jerked backward to yell, but as soon as I saw her face, those wide, blue innocent and worried eyes, anxious for me, my protest died down and I hung my head.

Only a Twoleg.

_'It was only a cat', _I remembered my mother saying, when I was five and the neighbor's cat was thirteen and roadkill. I had buried Piper in the park with the sand bucket and plastic shovel. And there were those other times too, of hundreds of squirrels and one or two skunks and even, one time, a coyote, but this death hit me the hardest because it had never been a man before, and now I felt more alone than ever because none of them could understand.

I pressed harder against Wolfsong. She held me tight. As I stared down at the drying patches of the man's blood on paws, I couldn't help but be reminded of that one day that I had been trying so hard to forget.

_Sam!_

_Help me!_

I squeezed my eyes shut and exhaled slowly. The anger had gone now and had left a gaping hole inside me, like an empty shell.

It felt weird to leave the wrecked car behind. Wrong, somehow. But there really wasn't anything left to do except to leave and not look back. The car lay there like a dead animal and watched us go.

"Stormpaw! Stormpaw! Hey, Stormpaw!"

"Hmph."

"Stormpaw, tell me about the things that happened before you came to ThunderClan!"

I stopped and blinked at her. Silverpaw stared cheerfully back. Why was she asking this now?

As her blue eyes stared happily up at me, I realized that she was only trying to cheer me up. But I still didn't feel like talking. My paws were heavy.

"Well…," I began slowly, still walking. "I was born and raised in a Twolegplace far away."

Her eyes grew round. "Maybe it was the same one that Wolfsong and I were born in!"

"Heh. Maybe."

Atlas was twitching his whiskers. I raised an eyebrow at him and continued on. "Do you want me to skip to the part where I met Shadefrost, or do you want to hear more about my dull life?"

"Ooh! Tell me about Shadefrost! Please?"

I gave her a small grin. "We met when we were really young." My mind flashed back to that gray day in the park with the tulips. "She was surrounded by a gang of Twolegs. Luckily I got there in the nick of time to scare them off. You should've seen the way they ran, all crooked like this." I made a funny walk and Silverpaw laughed.

A squirrel dashed out in front of us with a blur of hazel. Silverpaw immediately gave chase, the story forgotten. I watched her disappear over the white slope.

"Are you planning on tell them any time soon?" Atlas asked.

I flicked my ear. "Tell what?" I replied, when really, I knew.

We continued on in silence.

"I'm sorry about the accident," he said. A pause. Then, "It really wasn't your fault, you know."

Through clenched teeth, I meowed, "I was the one who chased the deer onto the road. The car tried to swerve away, but it skidded on the ice."

My eyes fell. I turned away.

Instead of hurrying up to catch up to the others, the rabbit lingered by my side. I was beginning to grow annoyed.

Finally, he said, a bit quieter than usual, "You asked me why I carry this sack with me everywhere I go."

There was a little spark in my interest. "Yes?"

"It's a promise that I've made."

"A promise?"

"Yes. I once knew someone a long time ago."

I managed a weak grin. "You promised them that you'd carry a moldy old bag on your shoulder?"

He laughed. "Yes, it's sort of like that. A dumb promise, really."

I waited for him to say more, but he only hopped along, staring down at his paws. Even he has things that he keeps hidden from everyone else, I realized.

I didn't know why I told him. Maybe it was because his ears weren't as perked up as they used to be, maybe it was the way he was holding the bag, almost hugging it like a teddy bear. Or maybe because the ache in my heart just wouldn't go away, how the image of the man slumped in his seat jarred my head and made me quiet.

I blurted, "I have a secret too."

He nodded, looked surprised. "I know. You're a Twoleg. You told me that"

"No, Atlas, not that one. It's something else. Something that I've never told anyone, not even Ashley."

"It's important then, your secret. Almost as important as mine?"

"Y-yeah."

_Black water, pitch-black like ink, a torrent of darkness against an even darker sky, water sloshing, water churning, white froth burning like the tips of fire, wind blowing and creaking the limbs of trees._

_ "Where are you?" I called out into the night, gripping the branch so tightly that my knuckles turned bone-white. My voice was blocked out by the roaring of waves as it swept me away._

I blinked away the memory.

"Are you ever going to tell them that you're a Twoleg?" he asked now, nodding his head toward the others who were traveling a little way ahead of us. He had changed the subject as easily as the changing of the wind. It comforted me, somehow. He didn't pry.

"No," I said bluntly. "Never. They don't have to know."

"It'll be easier to tell them sooner instead of later."

I blinked at them solemnly. Wolfsong and Len were talking together, their voices muffled, while Silverpaw was busy chasing a snowflake. Featherpaw was a little distance away from them, glancing upward at the sky.

There was a wall between us. I had realized it earlier, when I had cried and they hadn't. It was a river dividing us. They would never feel the same things I did.

"I can't tell them," I whispered. "They'd never understand." _About what? _a small voice in the back of my mind whispered, and I hissed back, _Literally everything. _

There came a sudden shout from ahead, from Len. I pushed forward, fear coursing through my body. Nudging past Wolfsong, I planted my paws forward and stopped, gazing at what lay in front of us.

The growling of cars and trucks and motorcycles. A wind carrying the ashy scent of dust and smog and people. A dog barking. Walls of brick and stone, strings of wire strung and cutting across the sky, moving colorful robes of cloth that jostled one another and crowded and talked and sang.

Something tugged at my heart. "We're here," I breathed.


	33. Chapter 30-Can You Fix the Broken

CHAPTER 30-Can You Fix the Broken

The streets were choked with smog and the bustling of cars, headlights glowing against the dirty snow, with mountains of people rushing back and forth in bleary eyes and pink noses and chins tucked deep into their coats.

"We can't let Len be seen," I whispered. The lynx stuck out like a sore thumb. Quickly, we slunk closer against the shadowy, dark places, the crevices in alleyways and in between buildings. Apart from his glowing eyes, Len blended in with the blackness.

Silverpaw watched in barely concealed wonder at the legs of the people strutting past us. The tall apartments were mountains to her; the growling of automobiles made her hackles rise in excitement.

Did it bring back memories from her kithood? I wondered. Half-formed mists of red brick and cardboard and cracks in the sidewalk.

My heart beat faster.

Without warning, out of the blue. A twinge of alarm, the wind blowing my pelt the wrong way. With my fur prickling with unease, I quickly glanced around. Was someone there?

I couldn't scent anything out of place, but there was a feeling in my bones that shifted uncertainly.

"Do you feel that?" I whispered to Featherpaw. She glanced at me in surprise. "It just doesn't feel right. Like we're being watched."

She only furrowed her brow and stared at me with a strange expression. Was I the only one who had this strange sensation creeping into my soul? I cast a quick look around; nothing out of the ordinary. I was just overreacting. With an effort, I smoothed down my ruffled pelt with a hint of embarrassment.

A harsh noise came from nearby, loud even against the noise of traffic. Wolfsong asked with concern, "Are you alright, Featherpaw?"

The pale she cat attempted to nod in reply, but only managed to cough harder.

I pressed my pelt against hers, feeling it ripple with every cough like the waves of an ocean.

I mewed briskly, "Let's move somewhere with cleaner air."

Wolfsong meowed something in reply, and we set off again, this time with a renewed sense of urgency.

Len pressed harder against me every time a vehicle roared past. I could tell how tense every one of his muscles were, shifting restlessly beneath his coat like feathers, as if they wanted to break free.

He growled, "Is it always this noisy? Why are there so many of those strange animals?"

Silverpaw was surprised. "You've never seen a Twoleg before?"

He eyed one of them suspiciously. "Two...leg?"

We rounded the corner. The mountains were closer now than they had been, but still far away. I could see a green smudge of trees lining the tops like woolly hair, caps of shimmering ice clad around their shoulders like capes.

"Don't worry," Wolfsong mewed. "As long as they don't see us, they won't bother us."

Len didn't need to be so nervous. Most of the people were busy holding phones to their ears and briskly striding away, not noticing the group of cats and one odd lynx.

As my aching paws scraped against the rough concrete, I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. The scents stirred my memory and brought along another wave of homesickness. Over there, the warm and salty tang of a bakery that brought me back to a wooden kitchen, the curtains pulled back to let rays of orange sun dance across the counters, my mother with her sleeves rolled up and a littler me watching her from her side.

The air carried a taste of fog and late noon dew, traces of a past where I splashed my boots in puddles, where I drew tacky shapes on the sidewalk with chalk. Everything was tinged with sadness.

We came to a place where black rungs surrounded all four corners, and from within came the trill of a distant bell and sounds of schoolchildren. I hurried away.

_No, _I thought. _I don't wanna go back. There's nothing waiting for me back at home._

Atlas kept pace beside me. He cast wet brown eyes upward and seemed to clutch the bag tighter.

"Stormpaw," he began.

But was interrupted. Beyond the squeal of kids came a low growling, and this time it wasn't a car.

Wolfsong and Silverpaw knew what it was immediately. They drew back with bristling tails and snarls.

Len was alarmed. "What is it?" he cried.

As if on cue, two shapes streaked out, too fast to make out their faces, enormous and bulky.

I jerked back, unconsciously unsheathing my claws. They were too swift to see, one moment there and gone the next, but for some reason, in one quick slice of time, something in my mind whirled and told me exactly where and when.

To my left! I slashed out as hard as I could. Felt my claws rip through flesh. The creature yelped, followed by a scream, a sound which made me snap my eyes open in shock.

I had caught the dog in its muzzle. It danced backward and yelped again, but the scream had come from further back. I spun around. My heart froze.

Silverpaw was bleeding from a gash in her side, but when the second mutt made a move to lunge again, Wolfsong immediately darted forward, hissing.

There wasn't enough time to run toward them. In a flash, I felt another presence running toward me, planted my hind legs firmly against the pavement, stood up, and with one triumphant yowl, planted my front claws against the hound's face and _ripped._

He fell back with a howl of pain.

Len was hissing angrily, his fur fluffed up until he looked larger than life. His face was drawn back into a twisted snarl, a look that made me shiver. Even the dogs were having second thoughts.

But at once, a mongrel with the build of a German Shepherd lunged forward and fastened its jaws over his scruff. What ever anxiety they used to have had been chased away.

Silverpaw and Wolfsong were fighting side by side. The apprentice's moves were getting weaker. Featherpaw was off on her own, chasing and nipping the heels of a fleeing terrier.

Atlas! Where was Atlas? _I can't lose him! _I searched desperately for him, my blood beating like drums in my ears, fighting against the panic like a bird struggling against a cage.

He suddenly appeared beside me from out of nowhere. His nose was twitching, his ears bolt upright. The rabbit's chest heaved with every breath he took. He looked much smaller.

"There's more coming!" he panted. "We have to get out of here!"

If it had been only three or four dogs, Len could have taken them down easily. But Atlas was right.

More streamed out from around the corners and streets, eyes wild with the scent of blood, tongues lolling as bright as gum. I had never been more terrified of seeing a dog, their devilish faces, eager for killing, for death.

Two came charging up to us simultaneously, one from each side. I didn't think. My paws just guided me. With one smooth, lightning quick movement, I yanked the rabbit from the ground by the scruff of his neck and sprang away. The dogs immediately swerved toward me again. If I had leaped just a second too late, I would have been crowfood.

My voice muffled through the mouthful of rabbit fur, I shouted, "We have to run! Follow me!"

I didn't have time to see if they heard. At the sight of a mutt's yellow teeth coming toward me, I tore away, my ear just inches from its jaws.

I tore through the streets. The rabbit was surprisingly light. He hung limply from my mouth. Through the thin cloth of the sack, I thought I could catch a whiff of dirt and the moorland, and something hard and gritty inside it.

I didn't dare look behind me, but knew that there were four shapes alongside my own. And beyond them the stream of the dog pack, hot on our heels.

Wolfsong panted next to me, "Where to now?"

Silverpaw's harsh breathing was surprisingly loud. It was the only thing that filled my hearing, that and the frantic pounding of the drum inside my chest.

The canines were gaining on us. I could feel every one of their movements as if they were my own, every stride of their legs echoing mine.

The street broke off into two routes, one snaking left and the other right.

"Split up!" I yowled.

I chose the left one. Featherpaw did the same.

My paws were growing heavy. Instead of skimming across the top of the mushy snow like before, they sunk deep into it with every step. At this, Atlas squirmed out of my jaws and fell into running beside me. I spat out a mouthful of hair.

My mind was a whirl. I desperately wanted to stop and catch my breath. My lungs were on fire. My leg was starting to throb again. With every step she took, Featherpaw was slowly drifting behind. If we kept on going like this, we won't make it!

Suddenly, I felt a pull coming from my right, almost as tangible as a hand on my shoulder urging me to look up. Whipping my head toward the direction that the feeling came from, my chest tightened in relief. _Safety! _the voice seemed to sing. Wherever it was, it was drawing me closer like the warm hold of a mother.

"This way!" I called, and surged toward the direction. We were almost there! My paws pumped up and down as each stride pushed me forward.

Teeth nicked the back of my heels. Then a squeal, and without looking back I knew that Featherpaw had taken care of the pesky mongrel.

We sped down the sidewalk, and all the while the pull only got stronger.

Past a knot of people, past rows of apartments, round the corner, the voice growing stronger and stronger until-

We hit a dead end.

The road ended in a solid brick wall. I couldn't believe it. For the first two seconds, I could only stand there, mouth agape.

Finally, I gasped out, "No!" There had to be some mistake! But the bricks were there, dusty and as sturdy as rock. A bark echoed down the alley.

I whirled around, teeth bared. I counted about four of them, all of them big and hungry and looking as mean as foxes. The rest were still struggling to catch up, but I could hear their howls clamoring up and down the streets.

Featherpaw pressed against me. She was trembling hard. Beside me, Atlas was as still as a statue, body tense.

_Don't worry! _I wanted to say. _I'll get you out of this. I promise._

The dogs were not running anymore, but slowly stalking toward us like lions circling a herd. They knew that we had nowhere else to run.

I caught sight of one of their black eyes. Its face was gleeful, its jaws parted into a grin. With a flash, I recoiled backward. They were enjoying this! They couldn't wait to rip us apart.

Anger boiled over in my veins. Was this how it was going to end? We were so close! The mountains were almost in reach! And here I was, cornered like a rat, about to be torn apart by the mangiest of dogs. The leader crept closer still, eyeing us viciously. Drool dripped from its fangs.

Featherpaw stiffened, green eyes wide, her mouth open but no sound coming out.

The dog lunged.

_You've lost, _the monster gurgled, smug and deep and aching in my bones.

Something inside me boiled over and hardened into a grim resolve.

_No_, I thought, and remembered the promise I had made to Len. Bunching up my muscles, I stretched my neck forward and hissed for all I was worth. The canine's eyes began to widen. I swung my paw forward. It connected with the skull in a satisfying, loud crunch, and the hound flew back a few paces and lay there, dazed, too shocked to make a sound.

I swung my head around to glare at the others.

"You really think that I'd let you kill me?" I spat. "Ha!"

Bunching up my muscles, I waited for them to charge up to me. And waited. And waited.

The dogs stood stock-still. As stiff as rocks. Wide-eyed, jaws slack, even their tails had stopped wagging.

I straightened up, confused, and looked toward my companions for help.

Featherpaw was staring straight at me. Her eyes grew round, but when the silence became too unbearable, dropped her gaze and shook her head.

I turned toward Atlas. "What? What is it?"

"Stormpaw," he whispered. He took a step backward. His brown eyes were impossibly wide. Was that...fear?

"Something...", he broke off abruptly. "Your eyes..."

What? I didn't feel any different. What did he see?

Yet, certainly, something had changed. The dogs were shuffling backward now. A few had their tails between their legs. With every forward step I took, they fell back two more paces.

Feeling more courageous now, I charged. To my surprise, they didn't hesitate to scramble out of my way. All the bluff they had before had withered into nothingness.

I called, "Yeah, you'd better run! Don't mess with a Clan cat!" Drawing up my paw, I slashed at their hindquarters. Pretty soon, the alleyway had emptied like the pouring of water out from a bottle, and nothing could be heard except from my ragged breathing.

No, that feeling had come back again! There!

I shot my head around, hoping I could catch a trace of a shadow slinking away over the fence, but there was nothing. Confused, I glanced away and focused on the corners of my eyes, hoping I'd be able to detect some movement. Still nothing. So why was there that buzzing along my spine that told me someone was watching us, a gaze that sent prickles of alarm running through my pelt like goosebumps? It couldn't just be my imagination, could it? It felt as real as the concrete under my paws.

There it was again! This time closer, unimaginably close, so close that it felt like it was walking next to me, matching its pawsteps with mine. More frightened now than angry, I faced the place where I thought it was and hissed, "Show yourself!"

Featherpaw flinched.

My ears pricked upward, and at once the feeling vanished like a ghost. It was replaced with a fluttering of wings that might as well be a twinge of fright. Their panic was starting to get to me. "Featherpaw!" I stammered. "I wasn't talking to you, I was..." My voice trailed off at the sight of her.

One cheek was scratched and bleeding, and numerous other scrapes crisscrossed her body. But she was eyeing me warily, her fur ruffled and her body poised to run, obviously still scared. But the dogs had gone. What was there to be frightened of?

It was Atlas who finally broke the ice. His voice echoed against the walls, unexpectedly loud. I started.

"You're bleeding, Stormpaw! Feather, run along and see if you can find any cobwebs."

Featherpaw jerked, startled, and hurried off.

Now that he mentioned it, I did feel something wet oozing down my forehead. I raised a paw up to gingerly touch it, noticing that one claw had been torn where the fur was stained red.

I felt along the top of my face. The blood was coming from my right ear, and as I carefully touched it, realized that a deep chunk had been taken out of it.

Atlas scolded, "Look what you've gotten yourself into, Stormpaw! Who knows if it'll stop bleeding." He grimaced. "Looks deep."

It didn't hurt, but I knew that it would later. "Not my fault," I muttered. I eyed him up and down. Apart from where I had accidently pricked him with my teeth when I carried him, he looked fine. Although his fur was standing on end. And his ears were held a bit too straight. But he would be alright. I huffed in satisfaction.

Featherpaw raced toward us with a wad of cobwebs in her mouth. What ever had happened earlier was obviously now forgotten, as she began almost happily to press the wad against my pulsing ear.

"What else is it that you cats use?" Atlas asked, his whiskers twitching. He raised his paw and imitated the snapping of fingers. "Marigold! A shame that we don't have any at this time of the year."

I winced at her touch, and protested, "Shouldn't we be treating Featherpaw's wounds first?" I watched her carefully for a reaction.

The fear from earlier had vanished, and she was back to her old self again. When I didn't stop staring, she flicked her tail in my face and grinned mischievously. If I didn't know any better, I would have dismissed whatever had happened earlier.

But something still wasn't quite right. They hadn't been worried about my ear. They had seen something else. Something that I didn't notice. Something big enough to scare off a whole pack of dogs. I shivered. They had been afraid of _me. _I wanted to ask him just what the heck they saw. What, did I suddenly sprout horns or something?

Featherpaw's green eyes suddenly connected with mine, and through her mask of cheerfulness, I caught a glimpse of something sliding away. The hint of uncertainty was still there. And just a touch of lingering fear.

The distant sounds of bustling traffic echoed through the alleys, but now and then there came a scuffling like pawsteps coming closer.

I pricked my ears up hopefully. "Wolfsong?"

However, instead of the broad-shouldered blue-gray she-cat, a smaller tabby emerged from the shadows. Her orange eyes grew round when she saw us.

"Were you the ones who chased the pack away?" Her voice trembled, but as she stepped toward us she got bolder.

Her eyes sparkled. "How did you do it? I've never seen them so terrified before!"

I tensed as she neared, still wound up from the dog fight, but she seemed friendly enough. At Featherpaw's light touch on my shoulder, I relaxed.

"No need to thank me," Atlas said, raising his paws in a boxing stance. "All it took was a clip to the nose."

The tabby started. "You can...talk?"

He looked offended. "I most certainly can! Why does everyone keep think-"

"Have you seen other cats running nearby?" I interrupted quickly. I had to make sure that the others were alright. Silverpaw's gash had seemed pretty deep.

"Other cats?" the tabby echoed. She tipped her head to one side. Then she brightened up again and mewed, "Oh, I'll introduce you to them!"

I shook my head, trying to be polite. "We're actually really busy right now, we-"

I broke off when she leaned in close and sniffed me. It was awkward, but she didn't seem to notice it. Her whiskers twitched.

"Hmm. Are you travelers? You don't smell like you live nearby."

Her fur was tacky and clumped together, as if she had never bothered grooming herself, and her pelt was heavy with the clogged stench of smoke and oil.

I opened my mouth again to tell her that I really didn't have time for this.

Suddenly, she drew back, ears flat, the cheerfulness gone. It seemed to turn a few degrees colder, and at the sight of the emotion on her face, I shut my mouth, at a loss for words.

"You really shouldn't have come here," she whispered. "The Watcher could be listening."

Atlas straightened up. "The who? What's the-"

The tabby immediately began pushing us out of the alleyway, a sense of urgency in her movements that hadn't been there before.

"In here," she whispered, and wiggled into a tunnel protruding out from the rubble. A rank and wet stench wafted from it, and as I watched, horrified, she squirmed her way down it until the darkness swallowed her up.

Her voice drifted out, echoing and disembodied. "Coming?"

Featherpaw and I exchanged glances. She took on an anxious expression. _We still need to find Len and the others._

But if The Watcher really was out here, what ever he was, it would probably be safer to follow the tabby. She had spoken the name with such seriousness. It sent a chill down my spine. And the dogs could still be nearby. I just hoped that the others had found some shelter. Something less grimy.

A stream of green water trickled down the pipe. I grimaced.

"Hold your breaths," I told them.

The rabbit exclaimed, "What? We're actually doing this?"

Reluctantly, I nodded. Held my nose, and before I could change my mind, pushed my way into the narrow tunnel. The sides were slick with slime. I gagged, then bit my tongue to keep myself from throwing up. Using my front paws, I pulled myself forward. Nothing but darkness up ahead. The cramped, narrow space pressed up against my ribs, squeezing me not enough to hurt, but enough to feel cramped and uncomfortable.

As I was concentrating on wiggling forward, I gradually became aware of something else next to me. The feeling was back, as though I wasn't the only one journeying through this slimy pipe. I couldn't see anything, couldn't hear anything but my own heartbeat, yet as I continued on I felt sure that someone else was down here with me.

It should be impossible. I almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it. The pipes were so narrow, I was hardly able to fit myself through, let alone another person.

_The darkness is getting to you, Sam, _I told myself. There was nothing there.

Yet, the panic started to build on me. _Nothing there, nothing there, _became a breathless chant that soon fell apart like a cocoon and lost its meaning. The dark seemed to go on for forever. What if it never ended? My movements became more frantic. Once or twice, my paws brushed against something sticky, but I was beyond the point of caring.

Without warning, there came a warm breath on my ear, and then a long sigh after it.

I jerked forward wildly.

With one last, violent, terrified thrash, I abruptly spilled out onto a damp, cement floor.

"Took you long enough!" came the tabby's mew.

After me came Featherpaw and Atlas, coated and sleek with damp slime and reeking of fish. I would have laughed, but instead I stood there, panting.

They didn't look frightened at all. More disgusted and bewildered than anything else. Hadn't they heard the thing in the pipes?

I turned toward the tabby's voice. The only thing I could see of her was a faint outline in the darkness. "I...I heard a voice in the tunnel. Is there anything alive in there?" I was afraid to hear the answer.

Instead, the tabby only shrugged. "We have a lot of rats. Hey, if you find one, catch it for me, okay?"

She didn't seem worried. But what ever it was, it had not been a rat. I tasted the air. Beyond the reek of fish slime came the scents of dust and dirt and mold, and something else, something warm and breathing. The air rustled with the sound like pelts brushing against each other. Gradually, my eyes adjusted to the gloom.

Featherpaw let out a sharp intake of breath. The stone floors were worn smooth from the steady flow of shallow, murky water. Various kinds of trash found their way and were carried by the ebb and flow of the green, greasy tide, and the only source of light came from narrow openings from the tops of the walls. Everything was a dripping mess.

But what made me blink in surprise was the overwhelming number of cats that lived here. All kinds, squirming and sleeping and busy gnawing on old bones, from kits to queens to old, flea- bitten ancients. It was almost like a Clan.

But not quite. Instead of the crowded space being filled with murmurings and meowing, it was practically silent, save for the kittens and an occasional sneeze. And they kept to themselves, too. They hardly ever looked at each other.

I breathed, "What is this place?"

"A safe spot," exclaimed the tabby cheerfully. "Here, none of the dogs can get to us. And at night, when those mutts are asleep, we come out and reclaim the streets."

She beckoned to us with her tail and splashed her way over to a knot of cats. "My name is Sable," she announced,"and this one's my mother, Berm."

A sleepy gray queen peered up at us from where she lay on a nest made from a floating plastic bag. Featherpaw nodded at her awkwardly.

To my alarm, a pair of toms came careening through the sewers, tackling each other and sending sprays of dirty water cascading over us. My tail bristled. Was this a fight?

Sable only laughed. "These two fleabags are my brothers, Cliff and Rags. Don't let them bother you."

The two toms were identical, both their pelts a patchwork of brown and white. Or at least from what I could tell. Moving too fast to make out their faces, they shot through the tangled mess of cats, earning them a few yowls of anger from the others.

"Why did you guys choose to live here?" I asked in bewilderment. The stench was overwhelming, and it was so packed that it was impossible not to bump into other cats. Did all the city's strays congest here?

Sable only shrugged. "Hm? I don't see anything wrong with it. It's safe, and even in leaf-bare it's warm."

_But stifling in the summer, _I thought.

Every one of their pelts were scruffy and knotted, but no wonder. It must be hard to keep clean in a place like this.

Berm did not stop glaring at us. She spoke in a raspy whisper, but her words echoed loudly. "Who are these strangers? Are they here to take us away now?"

"No, Mother," Sable purred, rubbing her cheek against her. "Just a group of travelers."

It took me a while to realize that Berm was not gazing at any of the others, but straight at me. There was a wild glint in her eye.

She shot out a paw toward me. "Something's not right about her. She's different."

Different? Could she somehow sense that I wasn't really a cat?

Featherpaw nudged me and nodded at Berm, raising an eyebrow pointedly.

"Oh!" I exclaimed. "I-I forgot to introduce myself. So, um, I'm Stormpaw, and this is Featherpaw."

"And I am Atlas," Atlas said. "No need to panic, I know it is quite unusual to see a talking rab-"

"Why can't she speak?" Berm cried, jerking her muzzle at Featherpaw. "Does she think that she is too good for us?"

"Mother..." Sable whispered. To us, she meowed apologetically, "She does that sometimes."

Instead of becoming silent, Berm's cries only grew louder. A few curious heads swiveled toward us and stared at the scene.

Atlas mumbled, "Perhaps we should leave." Yeah, that was the number one plan that was running through my head right now. I needed to get as far away from this place as possible.

Sable's eyes turned wide with shock.

"Why would you say that? There's still so much that I need to know!"

Before any one of us could reply, she bounded away and disappeared into the crowd. She reemerged a few moments later, shook herself free, and in a loud voice yowled, "Everyone! There's good news!"

Instantly, all attention was focused on her. Waves of eyes turned their way toward the tabby.

"I saw them chase the pack away. I've never seen the dogs so terrified before."

There came low mutterings like the buzzing of bees.

"I don't believe it," one tom muttered.

"They don't look any different from us."

"It's true!" Sable insisted. "Right, Stormpaw?"

I shied away from their curious gazes and nudged Featherpaw. "We should leave."

Sable continued, "They'll be able to run the dogs out for good!"

Even Atlas began to get nervous. "Now Sable, let's not-"

"We'll be able to roam the monsterpaths in the daylight as well as at night! No more pesky dogs nipping at our tails, stealing our food and our kits!"

By now, the cats were showing a keen interest. Their eyes glittered like diamonds in the darkness, and as a cold feeling began to settle in my stomach, they began to block our way to the exit. The stench of the pipes were beginning to grow nauseating. My head reeled.

"But we're still looking for our friends!" the rabbit protested.

"And we've been looking for _you." _Sable bounded toward us eagerly. She purred and rubbed her cheek along mine affectionately, but I jerked back.

She saddened. "Don't you see?" she whispered. "If the dogs are gone, we won't have to live like this anymore. It'll at least be one more step in becoming free."

I shook my head. "I'm sorry. I can't do this." Or could I? Instantly, my mind flashed back to the moment when the pack had reared back, eyes wide with terror. At me.

Featherpaw turned to leave, but Sable was there, blocking the way. "Please!" she meowed. "I'll even let you join us when we reach the forest."

At this, Featherpaw's ears flicked upward; I did the same.

"There's a forest near here?" I asked.

"No," the tabby mewed, and her eyes softened. "A long way away. But it's definitely real. The Watcher promised us that one day, it would be ours."

My insides churned with anxiety. Was she talking about the Lake? The forest that the Clans lived in? But they couldn't go there! Not this many rogues and strays, fifty of them, with their ribs gaunt and hungry...

I narrowed my eyes. "Who is The Watcher?"

"Our leader," came the reply. "He's almost too good to be true."

I waited to hear more, but instead, she added,"And we can help you find your friends! But please stay. Please help us."

At this, the rest of the cats began to wail. Their voices echoed against the cement walls, turning it into a cacophony of ghostly cries, begging us to stay, to help them.

I took in their wide eyes filled with fear, their ribs showing through their dull coats, the matted and dirty fur, the tiny kits, the tired mothers, and something within me broke to see them like this. My paws turned into lead.

"Oh," Atlas breathed, and I turned my head to see my companions. Featherpaw nodded, slowly, as though tasting a piece of fresh-kill, still uncertain but leaning towards staying. Like a tiny mist settling onto my shoulders, with my stomach twisting itself into knots, I turned back to the tabby. Sighed. With a small, defeated slumping of my shoulders, I said, "Fine."

The sewers broke into a riot of cheering. Their eyes lit up like suns, and I wondered how long it had been since they were this happy.

They surged forward and jostled me around. I felt suffocated. More than anything, I wanted to escape out from this place, back into the open, wide sky and away from these starved, desperate cats.

Ever since I had arrived, Berm had not stopped staring at me. Her gaze held some kind of knowing in them, and when I peered back, her eyes narrowed in hostility. But she never tore her gaze away, and did not join in with the cheering. Her eyes were blue, a deep and unfathomable blue, one of them duller than the other like a frosted-over windowpane. I wondered if she knew things that I didn't. Or the things that I did.

She looked at me like how a hawk would search over the body of a mouse, hungrily, half-starved. I refused to falter, but stared back with just as much intensity. A silent challenge passed between us.

Just how much did she know?

.


	34. Chapter 31

**IM SORRY**

**UURHGHFH. **

**It's been 25 years since I lasted updated, so if you forgot what the story was about: Sam and her crew are journeying to the mountains to get Len's home back, when they're separated by some dogs in a town they come across. Sable and the sewer cats take them in because they think that Sam will be able to chase the dogs away for good.**

**HELP WANTED: **I don't know if I'll be able to finish on my own :,D

To speed things up a bit, PM me if you think you can help me write a few chapters. It'll be like a collab, and I'll PM you back with more specific details. I don't really know what else I can do to keep my motivation on this story :,D

Chapter 31

"I've lived here my whole life," Sable meowed. The glow from daylight had faded away, plunging the sewers into a gloomy darkness. From the shadows, tens of glowing eyes blinked and twinkled like green stars.

"My mother was born here, and her mother before that. It's the only home we've ever known." The walls echoed with her voice, metallic and hollow, like speaking from a cave. Sable's eyes brightened unexpectantly.

"But then the Watcher came!" Her voice was dreamy with awe. "He promised us a life outside the tunnels. A whole forest, just for us."

"So why are you still here?" Atlas muttered.

"We're planning to leave after the snow melts, when it's warm enough," she answered. "Are you sure you don't want to come with us?"

Again, the same coldness congealed in my bones. Berm was staring at me again. Normally, I'd just shrug it off, but her eyes held a strange and unrelenting intensity to them. It weighed me down like waterlogged fur.

I pretended not to notice. That was the best thing I could do right now. Just act natural and then run the hell out of here once I find Len and the others. "Uh. So where is the Watcher now?"

"He comes and goes."

"But don't you think it sounds...weird?"

She tipped her head to one side. "What do you mean?"

"You're believing everything he tells you. You don't even know who he is or what he's up to." _And a strange name too, _I thought but didn't add.

To my surprise, she gave a little laugh. Her eyes grew wistful. "When you've lived here all your life, hope is what you can really cling onto. And anyway, what do we have to lose?"

_Nothing, _I realized. Whether the Watcher was a lie or a truth didn't matter. It was enough to just believe and dream.

Sable nodded as the last rays of dusk gave way to night. "It's time to look for your friends. Cliff and Rags can come with us."

A surge of excitement burst in my chest like a pillar of flame. Finally! I thought I'd be stuck here all night, with this green slime oozing between my toes and the suffocating stench of cats all around me.

I heaved myself up, my paws uncomfortably damp. The ends of my fur dripped, and I could tell, with Featherpaw's flattened ears, that she was feeling just as miserable as I was.

"Wait!" came a raspy voice.

Berm lurched toward us. Or more specifically, toward _me._

"I need to speak with you."

Not forgetting her hostility from earlier, I shrank back and glanced at my friends helplessly.

"Please!"

A tone of desperation from her hoarse voice. What could she possibly want with me?

"I'll join you later," I told Featherpaw and Atlas, and unwillingly followed the quivering queen. I didn't have time for this.

She kept her flank pressed against the sleek walls, purposefully avoiding the knot of cats.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked. She didn't answer, but only quickened her pace. It was only when we had rounded the corner, when the green water had grown deeper and lapped at my chest, did she whirl around and pin me underneath her wide-eyed stare.

"Speak up!" She hissed. "What did you say your name was?"

"S-Stormpaw!" I mewed, startled.

"No it's not," she muttered, eyeing me anxiously. For a moment, her anger faded and was replaced with fear.

"Look," I meowed. "I don't have any clue what y-"

"You smell just like him," Berm interrupted, leaning uncomfortably close.

"Like who?"

"The Watcher." Her gaze hardened."Sable is too dull witted to realize. So are the others." She curled her lip. "They're all too blind to notice!"

"Stop," I hissed, jerking away.

"He's not a _savior_," she spat, as though the word was a piece of crowfood. "Nor a leader, nor a hero. He's evil. I can sense it."

Great, a crazy nutcase.

I opened my mouth to retort, but immediately shut it when that same, chilling feeling washed over me like cold water over stone. Sinking into my skeleton like a second skin. A frosty breath. Was someone there?

Berm eyed me thoughtfully. "See?" she rasped. "You can sense it too."

I took a step back, spooked. _She could feel it? I wasn't just imagining things?_

"I don't know what it means," I whispered. It could have just been a draft.

"Means evil, that's what," she spat. "You need to get rid of him."

"But I don't even know who _he _is!"

All at once, I saw something trickle in the corner of my eye. No, I didn't _see_ it, not with my eyes. But my mind could feel something prickling at the corners of my brain like fingers, like needles.

I dashed forward, feeling it slide away like a snake, a shadow curling away.

_You won't get away this time! _I thought with a surge of determination. _What ever you are. _

Clenching my teeth, I churned through the water with my paws, trusting my instinct to follow it. The feeling of unease was as strong as ever. It sent ripples down my spine.

_Do you..._

There was an opening farther down, metal bars cutting the dying light into pieces. Though everything around me was wreathed with darkness, I could see the moonlight reflected on the waves.

I squeezed between the slippery bars. Instead of slime, my paws scrabbled against snow. Without warning, the trail vanished. The feeling of another presence evaporated. I was left shivering in the night, soaked to the bone. _Idiot! _I scolded. I should have never listened to that crazy cat. Yet, the feeling had been so real, so tangible, that for several heartbeats more I strained to listen for it again.

_Do you ever wonder..._

There! An itch against my skull. I pressed forward and quickened my pace into a dash.

I wasn't letting it get away again!

I left the sewers far behind, racing past rows of houses, rows of streets.

I didn't even know what I was chasing, only that I couldn't let it leave me.

For some reason, this felt so achingly familiar. Chasing someone like this, how even though I couldn't see him I always knew where he was. _You're always running_, I wanted to say.

Those words were familiar too. I tried hard to remember. There was something missing.

_You're always running!_

Not for the first time, I wondered if I had forgotten something.

_Do you ever wonder what it be like..._

I tore through the drifts of snow, hissing under my breath from the cold. And then, as if I knew, I slowed down into a walk. My breath came out as white puffs.

"You poor thing," said a voice, and even before I spun around, I could imagine a pair of deep amber eyes, golden, and the face that the husky deep voice belonged to.

Alarmed, I whirled around with my pelt fluffed out and claws unsheathed. "Who...who are you?" I spat.

"Don't be so frightened, love. Just a passing tom." Instantly, the alarm went away as soon as I saw him. His golden eyes were warm and merry, holding a spark of laughter in them, and his whiskers twitched in amusement. I burned with embarassment. The voice had gone. We were alone together.

The tom's black and white pelt stood out starkly against the snow. He leaned forward to catch my scent. "Hmm," he mused. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"I'm...I'm looking for something." Now, as I said it out loud, it sounded incredibly stupid; I had probably been hallucinating again.

He blinked at me sympathetically. "Out in this weather? It must be something terribly important, then." He stood up and stretched lazily. "Well, I wish you the best of luck."

Seeing him walk away suddenly jerked something within me. It was as if I had found something but then lost it again.

"Wait!" I called out, before I could stop myself. He cast a look over his shoulder. Seeing those brilliantly golden eyes made my heart beat faster. Like the gaze of a hawk. It was as if they pierced right through me, as if he saw not just me but my thoughts too.

Golden. Like dried autumn leaves. Instantly, I saw a meadow woven in yellow, like a sea of gold, with the rich stretch of sky above it.

I shuffled my paws uncertainly.

"Have we...have we met before?"

His face did not betray any emotion except for mild laughter, as if he knew something that I didn't.

"No," he said slowly, thoughtfully. "I don't think we have."

Some kind of disappointment washed over me. I had thought...

The tom lingered there for a few moments more. Awkwardly, I glanced away. So this was it, then? Do I just walk back to the sewers now?

My fur bristled with humiliation. I had finally found something important, but it turned out to be nothing. Briefly, I wondered if this journey was not just for Len; maybe I was searching for something else, something that I had lost.

"You said that you were trying to find something," the tom meowed, breaking into my thoughts. "A lynx and two others?"

My ears pricked up. A surge of relief lapped at my paws. "Yes! Are they alright?"

_Oh, thank you thank you thank you! _I exclaimed in my head.

He smiled. "Yes. I'd lead you to them, except that tonight is much too cold of a night. Could you meet me here again tomorrow?"

At this, I stiffened. I searched his face for any deceitfulness, but again I found none. He only gazed back expectantly.

"I don't even know your name," I began.

"Names?" he meowed. "They are of no use to me."

"But everyone has a name."

He gave a breathy gasp of laughter."I've never bothered with them. In fact, it's been so long since I've remembered mine."

I raised an eyebrow. "You forgot your own name?"

"I lost it somewhere near a canyon. That was a long time ago."

I laughed, my nervousness forgotten. "I have to call you something, though," I mewed.

He merely shrugged, a smooth rolling motion of his shoulders that I thought I might have seen somewhere.

Then, without saying anything more, he bounded away and disappeared, leaving me behind. I watched as the white parts in his pelt melted with the snow, then he dove behind a snow drift and was gone.

_'Do you ever wonder what it would be like if things were different?' he asked me._

_I could not see him but could feel him there, always standing right by me, like a reassurance, a friend. _

_A sea of golden grass below, the wide expanse of a blue, blue sky above. The bluest of blues._

_And in front of us, a canyon. It looked odd, out of place, as though someone had ripped a scar out of the ground. A sadness flowed through it. _

_Seeing it made me feel as if there was a gaping hole in my chest. He told me, _It's just the two of us now, then? _And it didn't make sense, couldn't because there had always been three of us, and now-_

I squeezed my eyes shut. Another vision, one of the many that often creeped into my dreams. But the tom-whoever he was-made me feel something, like a word on the tip of a tongue, a lingering aftertaste.

"Stormpaw?"

I was still staring at at the empty place where the tom had been, but was snapped out of my thoughts when Atlas came bounding toward me.

"Stormpaw! You're shivering." His warm, brown eyes glimmered like gems under the light of the moon.

Featherpaw came plodding to settle down next to him. There came a scuffle from further away, and the sleek head of Sable emerged from the snow. She was flanked by her two brothers.

"Any luck?" I asked them.

She shook her head, but then mewed quickly, "But we can try again! For as long as it takes." There was was a hint of desperation in her voice. _Please stay, _I could hear the hidden words ghosting over her tongue.

"What are you doin' standing in the middle of nowhere, anyway?" Cliff asked. Or Rags. The two brothers really did look identical, with scruffy brown and white fur, wide open eyes.

"I was...I was talking to someone." I turned my head to point out where Percy had left and noticed, with alarm, that his pawsteps in the snow had disappeared. It was a clear night. No new snow had fallen. Yet, in the trail where the tom had bounded away there was only a path of unblemished, glittering white.

"But...he was just here." I faltered.

Atlas stood up on his hind legs and twitched his nose. "I certainly don't scent anyone." Then, helpfully, he offered, "Who was he?"

_A stranger_, I wanted to say. Long black and white fur, a stocky body, merry golden eyes. For a wild moment, I wondered if I had just imagined him. Those sleepy golden eyes...it couldn't just have been a hallucination. "It's not important," I mewed, shaking my head. "Right now, we need to find Wolfpaw and the others. How far did you guys look?"

Sable answered, "We circled the park, the Twoleg nests, the alleyways and some of the streets. Featherpaw and Atlas showed us the place where your group got separated, but we had to turn back because the stench of dog was so strong."

Her eyes grew big and round, and for all the world she looked like a scolded little kitten. "I'm sorry, Stormpaw!" she whispered. "We were too afraid to go any further."

"Hey, don't worry about it. I understand." I stroked her quivering pelt with my tail. What was she so worked up about? Or maybe she was just afraid that I'd leave this town if we couldn't find them.

"You guys can head back," I told them. "I'll check that alley myself."

While Sable eyed me with a look of awe at my bravery, Featherpaw laid a tail on my shoulder and shook her head urgently. She shot me a hard stare.

Atlas voiced her thoughts. "We can still accompany you, Stormpaw. It's no trouble at all."

"I'm not scared," I said, and then laughed at the worried expression on his face. "I'm fine, really. I can fend off the dogs on my own."

I could see him and Featherpaw remembering about earlier, how the pack had gone yelping as soon as they saw me. I still couldn't wrap my head around that. Just what had happened? Did I have some sort of power?

"Guess we'll escort you there," Cliff piped up. "Me and Cliff, we'll make sure you reach that spot safely."

"Yes, yes!" Sable agreed. She turned to me. "At least take them along with you. Then you won't have to be alone."

I couldn't turn her down now, could I? And I couldn't waste any more time.

Beckoning to the brothers, I turned and hurried through the snow.

"Be careful!" Sable called behind me.

But before I left, I caught a glimpse of the spot where I had last seen the tom. Would I really have the guts to meet him again tomorrow?

Rags broke into my thoughts, as suddenly as a rock thrown into a sheet of ice.

"This I gotta see!" he snickered. "One cat taking on a whole pack of dogs?"

"If we're lucky, I won't have to take on anyone," I pointed out. I didn't want to see those mutts again, either. The way they fled, how they saw me...it spooked me just as much.

"Hey, hey, hey," Cliff meowed, bounding forward to keep up pace with me. "You're one of those loners, right? What happens if you _do _find your friends? You gonna leave us?"

I'd be surprised if their chattering _didn't _alert any of the dogs around here.

I clenched my teeth. "Just as soon as I-"

Breaking off as a waft of a familiar scent drifted toward me, I stopped and stiffened. This was the place. Closing my eyes, I flashed back to how we were chased, streaks of brown and gray fur, a gleaming of eyes, Silverpaw's terrified face. A blooming of memories in this alley. She had been hurt, I suddenly remembered.

On either side of me, Cliff and Rags stopped.

"This is as far as we'll go," Cliff said. "Good luck."

Sable had been right when she said that there was still the heavy musk of dogs hanging in the air. The back of my neck bristled.

Cautiously, I crept forward, following the path in which we had run. The ground was a flurry of marks: footsteps from humans, a bicycle track, undoubtedly some that were pawsteps.

Everything was dark and silent. No movement at all. I quickened my pace. This was where we had turned the corner. Following the bend of the wall, I could imagine ourselves being chased. A smear of dried blood on a brick. Probably Silverpaw's.

The dead end of the wall, the place where Sable had first found us. Nothing here.

They were gone.

Berm was waiting for me when we returned to the sewers. "Well?" she demanded, her tail writhing in her impatience.

"Leave me alone," I snapped, my frustration boiling over. I hadn't had a wink of sleep, I was cold and hungry and my paws were covered in this smelly green sludge, and Len and Wolfpaw and Silverpaw could be dead for all I knew.

Brushing past her, I tried searching for an empty spot that was not tangled with knots of cats.

To my dismay, Berm followed. "Did you see him?"

"The only thing I can see right now is your face." A raised lump of cement was the only area that wasn't completely covered in sewer water. Giving up, I collapsed and curled up on top. This journey was a lot harder than I expected.

Berm didn't leave. Instead, she leaned close to my ear and hissed, "_The Watcher. _You felt him nearby, remember? We both did."

Instantly, my mind flew back to that black and white tom, his sleepy golden eyes. _Him?_

"What's he look like?" I asked.

She clenched her jaw and shook her head, as if talking about him would somehow bring him here.

That tom from earlier. No, it couldn't be him. Not him with that kind voice, warm eyes. For some reason, I had imagined the Watcher as some old, cranky elder with a stony face.

My hostility gone, I sat up and faced her. "Who is he?" I asked.

She glanced around before leaning in. I wrinkled my nose at her fishy breath but didn't say anything.

"You already know that we were driven down here because of the dogs. It was happening even before I was born. We were safe at night, but as soon as dawn came we had to dive down here." I grew impatient. I already knew this part of the story.

"Then, one day, a stranger came. He arrived like you had done, by squeezing through the tunnel. No one else paid any attention. He was just one new cat among many. But I knew he was more than that. I could feel it. He wasn't right."

If anyone else said this, it would have sounded crazy. But Berm was right. Not about the tom, but about these tunnels. A breath of foreboding that lingered too long.

"Then he started talking about a forest a long way away. He said that he could help take us there when the time was right. They all listened to him. Latched onto him like leeches. Even Sable. But I didn't trust him. His heart had a maggot inside."

I furrowed my brow. "But how can you just..._sense _things? How did you know that for certain?"

Her gaze hardened. "I know you felt it too."

She was right. Time and time again, ever since I got here, there had been a phantom wind that chilled me even though none of the others felt it, a sense of anxiety and wariness like a raw wound. This town had kept me on my toes. Could I somehow detect the danger here? Like a sixth sense?

I began, "But Sable and the others-"

"They think of them as a hero," she finished. Her stare suddenly softened slightly, like the denting of a metal surface. "I'm afraid for them," she whispered, and all of a sudden she looked so vulnerable. I took in her matted pelt, the ribs poking through her sides. "Just what is he planning to do to us?"

My mind raced as I pieced together what she had told me. The Watcher-or what ever his real name was-was planning to invade the Lake. That was the forest he meant, right? It couldn't be anywhere else. Which meant that I had to stop him, somehow. Which meant that I couldn't keep searching for my friends any longer. Or fulfill my promise to Len. All of that had to wait.

But how on earth could I have enough time to do all those things? Silverpaw could be dying right now, but the Clans back at home could be in danger-

They _were_ in danger. I realized the urgency of it now. These cats that lived underneath the sewers, with the bony skeletons and half-starved stomachs, they believed every word that the Watcher had said and were desperate enough to try anything.

"I…," I stammered, suddenly feeling very heavy and very tired. When did things get this complicated? "I'm just a kid."

Berm misunderstood. "Kit? Stop being rat-brained, you're obviously older." Her gentleness from earlier had now been masked by that familiar sharp tongue. But she was worried. No matter how hard she tried to hide it, I could see it in her troubled eyes. A she-cat worrying about the future of her kits, her own clan.

Right now, we were the only two cats who understand it all. Just two against the rest of the universe.

I nodded now, without hesitation. Maybe this was what I was meant to do all along. Was this the path StarClan had laid out for me, why they had stolen me from my world to bring me here?

"That tom you mentioned earlier," she rasped. "Did you...did you speak to him?" Her eyes searched my own, desperately.

Acting on impulse, I exclaimed, "No! Of course not!"

Berm blinked. "Good."

And then, with the gait of an elder, she exhaled and turned away, threading between clumps of cats on trembling legs. I stood and watched her for a minute more. Then, when her gray pelt disappeared among a sea of others, I found Featherpaw padding toward me.

The pale she-cat had a measly rat dangling between her jaws. I wrinkled my nose despite myself. Its black fur stuck out and looked as tough as bristles from a broom. Not to mention its beady red eyes, still open, and the stench it gave off. Seeing my expression, Featherpaw blinked apologetically.

"You're right," I meowed. "We really can't be picky here, can we?"

Setting the rat down between her paws, she sat and wound her tail against her body. It took me some time to realize that she was obviously waiting for something.

"Oh." I pointed to where Berm had gone. "She was just telling me about…"

I leaned in close and whispered into her ear. No one paid any attention to us, even when Featherpaw's green eyes grew round in disbelief.

"This place gives me the creeps," I admitted. "I hate being here. But still, if what she said is true, then we have to do something."

Featherpaw blinked slowly.

"I don't know how. That's the problem. It' so frustrating, not knowing what to do, and all the while I want to go find Silverpaw and the others. The dogs...the dogs could get them again."

Featherpaw's tail suddenly shot up. She nodded to me, her expression all at once bright and hopeful.

I furrowed my brow. "I don't get it." Impatiently, she drew her ears forward and bared her teeth, though not quite like anger. Her tail wagged in a wide half circle behind her, back and forth, back and forth. It was the first thing I noticed.

A lightbulb went on in my head. "Oh!" I breathed. She was imitating one of the snarling dogs. "You're a genius, Featherpaw." Not just for thinking of that, but also because an idea was forming in my head.

"The cats are stuck here because of the dogs. So if we somehow drive that pack away, they'll have no need of living under the sewers. They can be free above ground, and when they are, they won't have to find a forest. But how do we do that?"

She sighed and nodded to the mass of cats.  
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, Featherpaw, I know that the cats outnumber the dogs. But the dogs are stronger. Look how weak Berm and the others are. Half-starved and scrawny. We can't even make them brave enough to face the danger."

Featherpaw had no reply. She was at a loss too. If only we could get the cats to join together and fight back. Like warriors. Unite them like a clan.

Only, it wasn't hard to remember that they were just rogues. A little distance away, a scarred tom was squaring off against a she-cat, probably over a scrap of food. Small fights like that constantly broke out here. It was every cat for himself.

_StarClan help me, _I prayed. If only Shadefrost were here. She'd know what to do.

It happened without warning. First there was the ordinary buzzing of meows and splashes, then the next second a wail that turned into a caterwaul. It jolted me awake from my thoughts, made Featherpaw turn toward the sound with alarm trembling on every whisker.

I leaped into action. Shouldering cats away from me, I rushed over to the source, not caring whether I tread on a tail or stepped on a paw.

It didn't take long. The first thing I saw was the quivering form of Sable, Atlas right by her.

"What happened?" I demanded, and immediately wished that I had not come.

It was Berm. Sable was hunched over her, but I could clearly see her splayed out form, her sides heaving with every breath she took. Her eyes were wide open, ears laid flat against her head. But the blood. The brightness of it.

For one dizzying moment, I felt a flash of blinding white near my temples and saw myself back at the Clans again, bleeding out onto the snow next to Scorchpaw where the WindClan cats had attacked us.

Shaking the flashback away, I crouched down and rapidly began licking the blood off her fur, trying to find the wound. Her pelt was matted with it. The more I cleaned off, the more came spurting out, like red paint splurging onto a canvas.

_Please don't die, _I desperately pleaded. A part of me couldn't believe it. I was _just _talking to her, for StarClan's sake!

"What the-"

Her long fur had hidden it, but there was definitely a deep gash in her neck. Raw and open and pulsating blood. It hurt just to even stare at it for too long, but it brought back a memory of a Gathering, Moleclaw collapsing nearby with the same exact slash on his neck.

I kept licking, even when the salty tang made my head swim with nausea. And even when Atlas pressed his tiny paw against mine, even when he said, "It's too late, Stormpaw," I didn't stop. It was the same thing that had killed Moleclaw in the blink of an eye, had slaughtered those WindClan apprentices, maimed that unnamed queen.

Something from the forest had followed us here.


End file.
